


Who You Travel With

by avagueidea



Series: Making Slav Proud: A Series of AUs [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Found Family, Gen, Keith isn't expelled AU (though he's trying his best to change that), Kerberos Mission comes home safe AU, M/M, Paladin Shuffle, Road Trip AU!, Slowburn AF (I'd say I'm sorry but y'all know I'm not), They DO get up into space eventually!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-07-16 05:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16079651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avagueidea/pseuds/avagueidea
Summary: With the Kerberos Mission arriving home soon, Keith realizes this is his last chance to do something reckless. That's how Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance find themselves stuffed into an ancient, tiny sedan, driving thousands of miles to solve an 18 year old mystery before Common sense (or Shiro) can catch up to them. Little do they know, the answers they find will take them much further from home than any of them were expecting.Despite being Keith's common sense, Shiro shows he has none as he, Matt, and his ex-fiance end up chasing after the runaways before anyone gets arrested, or worse, expelled!A story about found family and finding out what's really most important via road trips and ancient intergalactic space wars.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith seeks out people as recklessly talented as himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to [Shadow_Hunter93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_hunter93/profile) for being great sounding board as I threw things against the wall for this fic! You've been hella helpful thanks ♥

 

###   **PART 1** **: Road Trip**

 

         **Galaxy Garrison Archives** : Item 03q111-01 (Unknown Origin)        Date Recovered: 03-13-20XX

_Shield generator and signal distortion device with universal communication ability_

_Digital Inscription: “The heart of a Lion remains always to protect this place. // 1.003.92.078”_

_Investigator Notes:_ _Preliminary analysis suggests site had remained undisturbed for ~10,000 years prior to discovery. Shielding around site was added more recently and created by particle barrier technology beyond current known advances. Contained Item 03q111-02 (Unknown Metallic Artifact) causing distortion of unique readings. Inscription suggests Item 03q111-02 may be “Heart of a Lion”. Apparent power source  (Item 03u111-14) is crystal of unknown origin and structure. See TI#300949118 for most recent update or completed Technical Investigation._

_SH 03-12-20XX_

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 1**

        The world was not enough for Keith, or maybe it just wasn’t what he was supposed to have. He had always felt like he was on the brink of falling off the face of the Earth and into the unknown. Yet, no matter how recklessly he ran along the razor's edge, he never slipped. He stayed just a breath away from the abyss. He thought if he ran just a little faster though, he could get there before footing found its way under him.

        That’s how he ended up on his path to the stars. The pace to get there, though, was plodding at best. His whole body screamed he was supposed to be doing _more_.

        He’d wanted to run while Shiro was away. The older pilot was the closest thing to reason he had, leading him with promises of space if he was structured and steady. When Shiro left for his trip to Kerberos, Keith considered not being there when he returned. Shiro kept pulling him back from the edge time and again, but Keith wanted to fall. It took everything in Keith, every memory of Shiro’s patience and support, to keep himself at the Garrison and in his classes.

         ‘Pidge’ helped too.

        Katie Holt was quickly dubbed Pidge by the majority of the cadets after a message from the Kerberos Mission to the Garrison included a rather embarrassingly affectionate congratulation to her for being accepted. The mission did consist of her brother _and_ father, both Garrison Alumni, so the addendum shouldn’t have surprised her so much. The message had been broadcast to the entire Garrison, though. Keith noticed her for the first time with everyone else, staring at her during the assembly as she turned red and sunk into her chair.

        After that there was, of course, some mumblings about her just being a ‘legacy’. She was a third generation and the second sibling going into the same exclusive prep school. These whispers petered out almost as quickly as they started because it only took knowing Katie for a matter of minutes to realize the truth. Katie Holt was not just a genius, she was an unstoppable force. If by some crazy twist of fate she hadn’t made it into the Galaxy Garrison, she certainly would have just hacked herself into the system and come anyway.

        Keith liked her right away. Apparently, the Holts and Shiro up in space had already predicted that much. She was placed in aptitude tests the first month and, at the request of not just Keith but the majority of the Kerberos Mission, she was made his flight tech.

        He instantly liked the pairing. She was ready for whatever bizarre scenarios he could throw them into. They turned normal landing simulations into high risk maneuvers and standard docking into tests of impromptu emergency irregular entry procedures. It kept Keith oddly grounded to have someone as recklessly talented as himself at his side. Their mechanic, Salahovic, and the teachers were less amused, but they always technically completed the simulation missions, regardless of how unorthodox the method. So, the pair managed to stay out of trouble... mostly.

        Keith didn’t miss Commander Iverson adding a new slot in the program, though. He made it clear he was ready to replace him if he went too far. To the commander’s comical misfortune, the next most qualified student was the only one in the whole Garrison who might have been more reckless than Keith.

        Keith didn’t often pay attention to the other student’s runs, but it was hard to look away from the disaster that was the new guy. In the guy’s defense, Keith honestly might not have known what to do with a puking mechanic and a screaming flight tech when nosediving a moon canyon either. The end result was certainly a sight to behold.

        Keith watched the screen flash the final details of the most recent run and he had to admit the crash was _clean_. He managed well for the ridiculous situations that he got himself into. It wasn’t something the other students seemed to notice. He had kept his crew alive, even if the ship was completely out of commission. They also didn't watch the follow up simulations with as much enthusiasm as the flights. If they did, they’d know that the new guy’s mechanic rarely wasn’t able to patch the hypothetical damage.

         “We should request the new guy for the joint mission training,” Keith noted to Katie, who looked up at him shocked.

         “The disaster trio?” she asked incredulously.

         “I can get us out of anything he gets us into,” he promised. She looked skeptical but shrugged after a moment.

         “I’ve dealt with stupider stunts,” she replied. Keith took a moment to glance away from the mission report to elbow her with a snort. Then he looked back taking his time to read every last line, ignoring the other students piping up with their opinions before they knew all the facts.

        Clean crash, very fixable, and he’d almost completed a very impressive maneuver. Almost was good enough for Keith. He’d decided he definitely was going to request the new guy. The biggest problem was he kept missing his name, and at this point it was too late in the year to ask. This happened to him more often than not at this point. Everyone already knew _his_ name, so he didn’t get a neat introduction to anyone anymore. He hoped his “hey you”s weren’t getting too obvious.

 

         “Look at him glaring at my scores.” Lance glared at his arch rival across the room. “Like he’s offended by them. Fuck off,” he spat under his breath just loud enough that his mechanic, Hunk, nervously hushed him, like Keith didn’t deserve to be told to ‘fuck off’ at least once in the midst of all the ass kissing he got from teachers and other students. He even poached the Holt prodigy. The freshman would have definitely been thrown in with their newly added team if Keith hadn’t stolen her. Not to mention her family was on the Kerberos mission...

         “You’re just mad he took Pidge, and you don’t have an in to get to meet Shiro and the rest of the Kerberos Team anymore,” Hunk basically read his mind as they left the training room, their public shaming done.

         “That has nothing to do with anything. We have a perfectly adequate Tech of our own,” Lance announced.

         “Thanks,” a less than enthused voice said from behind them.

        Lance’s head snapped around, “Oh I didn’t see you there, buddy,” he said, putting on a bright smile. Their flight tech, Cohen, rolled his eyes. To be fair, he had been Keith’s tech before he’d been replaced. Being dumped would make anyone crabby, especially if it got them thrown in with the riffraff who had barely even been let into the program.

        Cohen made a grumbling ‘whatever’ sort of noise and pushed past them.

         “He’s kind of a dick,” Hunk noted casually when he was out of earshot. Lance stopped dead at the comment coming from Hunk, who was supposed to be the _nice_ one, then started laughing.

         “He’s just a sore loser,” Lance said, waving it off.

         “Yeah, we’re valiant losers.” Hunk grinned and Lance grinned back.

         “Speaking of. I have to go tutor Lee.” Hunk checked his watch.

         “Again? Why? I mean I get it, the kid fawns over you and stuff and I’m sure it’s fun to have a fan club…” Lance really just wanted Hunk around to complain to more. He was in that sort of mood.

         “Too bad. Pidge asked me to whip him into shape, so he can get into the piloting program as her Flight Mechanic next year,” he explained.

         “Traitor! Working with the enemy!” Lance hissed.

         “Dude. _You_ wanted her on our team,” he pointed out.

         “Yeah! But now she’s officially part of Team Keith. She’s the enemy.” He waggled a shaming finger at Hunk.

         “She’s cool,” he protested.

         “You’re just saying that because she hacked you into the Kerberos ships’ schematics,” he accused.

         “That is a very cool thing to do!” Hunk insisted. Lance didn’t really have an argument for that. Her casual hacking skills were amazing. They were just being wasted on _Keith_. “Whatever, man. I’m off to tutor, because I’m a responsible senior.”

         “Have fun with your fan club.”

         “You’re just jealous you don’t have one.”

         “I love myself enough, I don’t need trivial outside validation like that,” Lance said. Hunk gave him a long quiet stare. “Okay, but I _deserve_ a fan club!”

         “Ooookay,” Hunk said, chuckling as he turned off to leave. “See ya,” he called over his shoulder.

         “See ya,” Lance called back.

 

        The Kerberos Team was set to come back in just a little over a week and Keith prickled with the desire to run. He had to run before his common sense came back and told him that this nagging urgency that had a hold of him was nothing. Run before Shiro could  _be_  his common sense.

        Before that, though, was the co-piloting exercises. There was a lot of speculation on the mash ups and what dynamics would work best buzzing around the dorms. Top of the list was who would be working with his team. The conversation always died when he walked in, but if he just sat in his room and left the door open, the theories flooded it from the halls. It didn’t matter who had the best reason to be on his team, or for that matter who had the best reason to avoid being on his team. He’d already decided who he was going to be working with.

 

        Keith had a hard time finding the new guy. He wasn’t in the cafeteria or any of the common rooms. He wasn’t in the gym or out playing soccer. He eventually got Katie to look up his room number because he was out of ideas. He didn’t exactly know what this guy’s hobbies were, other than crashing.

        When he got to the room he knocked and heard a pleasant, bellowing “Come iiiin.”

        He walked in and found the big guy, who could always repair the new guy’s wrecks. He didn’t know his name either, and he was starting to think he had to just break down and start asking Katie these things. He should have at least thought to ask for the new pilot’s name before he left.

         “Uh, hey is your roommate in?” he asked. The guy was sitting cross legged on the floor, cooking something on a contraband hot plate. It smelled delicious, but Keith was on a mission.

         “Uh…. No?” the guy paused and looked worried for a moment. “Did he challenge you to a duel?”

         “ _What_?” Keith asked.

         “What?” Hunk said back quickly.

         “No...-ot that I’m aware?” Keith replied, slowly.

         “Oh good… So…” the guy paused, staring up at him, because apparently if he hadn’t been challenged to a duel he can’t think of any other reason Keith would stop by. Keith had to wonder if he was really _that_ antisocial.

         “So…” he trailed off.

         “Uh…” the guy slowly started stirring again, unsure.

         “Did Katie not tell you?” he finally asked. He’d assume since Katie seemed to know the guy, she'd have told him.

         “Who tell me what?” he asked, starting to look worried again.

         “We’re teaming up for the co-piloting exercises,” he explained.

         “Oh no.” The guy dropped his spoon.

         “ ‘Oh no’?” Keith echoed. He tensed, confused at the sudden horror on the guy’s face.

         “Uh… no. I mean…!” he stammered, waving his hands to lighten the mood. Keith was starting to get impatient.

         “Is your roommate around?” he asked again, a little sharper.

         “Uh… he’s… on the roof,” he offered, then noticed his little pot was boiling over and hurriedly going back to stirring it, cooing at it to stop bubbling over as he did.

         “Okay.” Keith turned to leave.

         “Wait!” he said, looking up from the now calmed pot, “Don’t you wanna know where on the roof?”

         “I’ll find him.” Keith replied.

         “Don’tgetinafightontheroofandbothfalloffanddie!” the guy shouted after him in a jumble.

         “What?” Keith paused.

         “Be safe” he offered sheepishly.

         “S-sure?” Keith said, nodding and leaving with a little less confidence than before.

 

        Keith didn’t have a hard time getting onto the Garrison roof. He hadn’t broken this particular rule set before, but it was definitely within his wheelhouse of skills to find his way into and onto things he wasn’t supposed to. It wouldn't be until later that he’d realize he didn’t need to detach those window guards, scale halfway up a building, and jump to an adjacent building, but instead could have taken a much simpler way.

        He rolled, reducing the impact as he landed on the next roof over. Just as quick, he was up on his feet, power walking around the utilities shed he’d just barely managed not to roll into. He didn't ‘stroll’ anywhere anymore, even when he had time to kill. Somewhere in the back of his head he didn’t really _believe_ he had time. The weight of some unseen pressure always building behind him, pushing him forward ever faster so it didn’t overtake him and drown him in whatever Fate was screaming for him to _‘move_ ’.

        Fate ran him directly into the cadet he was prowling the roofs for. They collided with an thwump.

         “Holycheese!” the cadet yelped, leaping back and stumbling over his feet, only keeping on them by a stroke of luck and years of practice wielding gangly limbs to their best advantage.

         “Oh good,” Keith said, straightening himself up and releasing the hilt of knife he had tucked under his uniform.

         “Good? _Good_ that you just scared the heck out of me?” he snapped, straightening himself up and shooting an accusatory look at Keith.

         “No,” Keith said, but didn’t think to clarify further. The new guy’s brow scrunched up in outraged confusion as Keith moved on. “So, our teams are going to be paired up for the co-politing exercise-” He was interrupted by a loud groan.

         “Does Iverson just hate me, or what?” he whined. “Why would he team me up with my rival?”

         “We weren’t teamed up by Iverson...” Keith paused, frowning, “Rival?” he asked as an afterthought.

         “What!?” There was a sudden flailing of limbs coming at him. “Then why? What are you up to? Are you trying to steal Hunk away from me too after you poached the Holt kid? Because you know what? It’s not going to work, because Hunk _knows_ how amazing I am, and the only reason you could steal Holt was because she hadn’t had a chance to see how badass I am--” he took and breath “Aaaand yes rival!” he added as a hard punctuation.

         “I didn’t--” Keith considered defending himself. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Katie would have gone to the newest squad if he hadn’t requested her. He’d just seen someone who might be able to keep up with him and decided it would be a good match. It’s what he thought about the new guy too, though he was starting to have his doubts. “I think I can land some of your maneuvers,” he finally decided on explaining instead.

         “What, is this charity?” he spat back, looking ready for a fight, though to be fair he’d looked ready to fight since the moment he’d set eyes on him. Keith was so startled he didn’t even reply. His bewilderment must have at least shown on his face because the new guy's face softened. “Are you serious? You just want to land for me?”

         “No,” Keith said solidly. “I’d rather just fly alone.” Another fight brewed in the other cadet’s eyes, but Keith soldiered on, “But if I have to co-pilot with someone, it’s not going to be one of those stuck up, by the books kids throwing criticism before they read the damage reports.” Keith got a wide-eyed stare.

         “Alright...” the new guy said, still sounding skeptical, “But I’m still going to kick your ass!”

         “We’re co-piloting. How do you kick your co-pilot’s ass?” Keith asked.

         “Oh! You don’t think I can win? I’ll show you who’s the better pilot right to your face,” he insisted, a cocky smirk finding its way onto his lips. Despite himself Keith found the challenge in his eyes contagious.

         “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he replied, his lips threatening to tug into a smile, almost.

         “Fine!” the new guy said suddenly, hands on his hips, “You can be my flight assistant,' he agreed, as if Keith had come up for his approval. Keith realized he didn’t exactly know what he _had_ come up here for. Either way, he wasn’t going to let that one slide.

         “I’m not your flight assistant.”

         “Yeah, yeahyeah, whatever. I’ll show you how it’s done in the simulator,” he said waving Keith off as he headed across the roof to leave.

        Keith would have argued, but he was too busy realizing that there had, in fact, been a door to the roof the entire time, and it led right down to the dorms. He mentally apologized to the drain pipes he bent a little out of place for no reason.

        By the time he realized he still didn’t know the new guy’s name, it was too late. He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : In which things go poorly but everyone's determined to go down with the ship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're going down with the ship or we’re gonna die trying!  
> YEAH-wait! What?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys will enjoy this AU I have a lot I want to put in here but I gotta lay the groundwork! Bear with me a little longer, haha.

* * *

 

        ** _Log date(Local): 09.08.20XX_**

_I was proud of my solitude. I called it independence. I called it bravery. I don’t know that it was either. It was, perhaps, necessary. I isolated myself because the mission required it. There are few I could allow myself to trust in this universe, and I saw them only when required. Even those moments felt like an undue luxury._

_I've existed for a single purpose for so long, it is terrifying to consider there may be another option. When I am with  ----  though, it does not feel so overwhelming. By simply existing, he offered a path I couldn’t have considered before. A path where I am not one, alone. I am one of two. I will be one of three. I could be one of many. The possibility is… exhilarating._

 

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 2**  

        Keith knew he wasn't the best team player. He’d only very recently started working on the whole, ‘respecting other people’ thing with Katie, and that was at least 80% because she was the first person who had skills he could never dream of matching. Even Shiro he could _imagine_ out piloting one day. If he put his mind to it now, he might even be able to beat that simulator score posted up on that plaque in the hall… maybe. Katie, though, lived in a completely different world. The other 20% was because he was fairly certain Katie could give one bad report to the Kerberos Team on Keith’s behavior and Shiro would be obligated to kick his ass. Not that he thought Katie was out to get him, it simply wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

        As a result, Keith felt he wasn’t entirely hopeless at things like cooperating and listening anymore. He even thought he was starting to get pretty good at it.  He didn't keep that confidence long into the exercise. He wasn’t sure if he had overestimated his skills or underestimated the sheer force of nature that was the new guy. Either way, he was in no way prepared for the level at which he was about to be challenged in the teamwork department that day.

 

       There was a wave of murmurs as Keith’s co-piloting matchup was announced. Their teams were called to the simulator first. Katie had fist bumped the big guy, the engineer, and said, “Hunk, my man”. Keith spent the next minute repeating it in his head while staring at Hunk. Hunk had avoided eye contact for some reason.

        The New Guy swaggered up and looked the picture of overconfidence, but Keith was used to that. Most of the cadets in the piloting program thought they were hot shit. It was the accepted norm. As soon as they were in the simulator itself, the guy clambered over him to get to the left side of the council. A tick of irritation rose in Keith. He could have just asked. Keith couldn’t care less what side he was on. They could turn the council upside down for all it would bother him. They had once, in fact, to show the cadets what would happen if the gravity array with flipped. Keith had been the only one to still land the ship _and_ not puke.

        Katie had taken up the dominant position at the techs’ station at the back. Hunk and Salihovic were playing nice, sharing the engineering seats with the air of two people used to kowtowing to stronger personalities. The new guy, on the other hand, elbowed Keith and acted like it was an accident.

         “The point of this exercise,” Iverson’s voice was projected into the simulator as he spoke to the class. “Is to assess your capabilities when flying spacecraft which require a larger crew. During complex maneuvers, such as landings on unfamiliar and treacherous terrain, a larger team will have to coordinate and share responsibilities. These will not always be people you are familiar with, particularly in emergency situations. This series of exercises will challenge your technical skills as well as teamwork abilities.” He went on, but Keith had stopped listening along with the rest of the joint crew, already setting up at their stations.

        The mission started off calm. Katie read out the planned route. It sounded like a simple ‘get to know your team’ mission, which was to be expected for a first day. Iverson had a cruel streak that tended to come out with the new guy, though, and Keith too if he was getting cocky. Keith suspected that his co-pilot demand was enough to put him on Iverson’s shitlist at the moment. No one was too surprised when a distress signal blipped onto screen at the same time Salihovic reported an abnormality in their fuel consumption.

         “Let me see those readings,” Hunk said from the back, but he didn’t have long to read before they were careening downwards in a spiral. There was a startled yip from Katie and Salihovic, and a telltale queasy ‘HRRP’ from Hunk.

         “Lance!” Hunk managed to shout, instead of puking. Keith felt like he should take the time to commit New Guy’s name to memory, but they were plunging headfirst into a ravine that wasn’t even on the moon they were supposed to be landing on.

         “I got this!” the new guy insisted. “Distress signal here we come!” he announced.

         “We haven’t even checked what _sort_ of distress signal it is!” Cohen snipped over the warning signals screaming about their reckless descent into uncharted canyons. He didn't sound panicked, simply annoyed. Keith remembered that tone from their time working together, but he never remembered agreeing with it before.

        Keith took a moment to assess their decent and watch the scenery blur by. When he’d gotten his bearings, he brought the manual control to himself and pulled up sharply. He flipped everyone’s stomachs but righted their course safely.

         “Hey!” New Guy shouted. “What, are you just going to leave them down there?!” Keith’s controls disappeared and reappeared on Lance’s half of the screen.

         “No I-” they were plummeting again. Keith growled and pulled up the secondary thrusters to redirect their flight and avoid jagged rocks jutting out of the canyon wall.

         “Guys.” Hunk’s voice in the background was drown out.

         “Listen, buddy! I’m not here for ‘just get the mission done’ bull. If there’s people in distress-” New Guy cut himself off, overriding the secondary thrusters’ adjustments.

         “When did I say anything about the mission?” Keith snarled back. He moved main controls to himself and locked them. The New Guy made an affronted noise and kicked Keith’s chair. “Cohen.” He glanced back at his tech. Keith’s lock was overridden to throw the controls back to the new guy.

         “Uhm, guys” Salihovic tried.

         “Thanks Cohen! Glad _someone_ knows what’s important!” he called back to his tech.

         “Katie. Override lock!” Keith demanded as they were again spiraling downwards vaguely in the direction of a distress beacon. The new guy was trying to pilot this entirely alone and there was no chance he could land a craft this size at this speed without someone at least working the thrusters. Hell, Keith didn’t know if he even could. The guy seemed to have forgotten this wasn’t some light, little fighter.

         “On it!” Katie didn’t seem bothered at all by the chaos around her.

         “BELAY THAT ORDER!”

         “Oh, come on, ‘belay that order’?” Cohen said, just loud enough for his disdain to be heard over the ruckus.

         “Seriously, guys,” Hunk had something to say, but not crashing took precedence. They’d deal with whatever it was later.

         “Rude!” The new guy’s controls had been completely shut down, and knowing Katie, there would be nothing Cohen could do about it even if he wanted to.

        Keith’s screen lit up with the full range of controls, from minor thrusters to landing gear and everything in between. It was… a lot to suddenly take over in a crisis. He cursed under his breath and barely swooped them between two narrow rocky pillars. The simulator rumbled with the scraping off of external panels.

         “You think you can just pilot without me?!”

        Keith ignored the indignant shout. He ignored the guy unbuckling despite the dangerous maneuvers rocking the ship violently. He ignored the hand slamming down next to the controls and the shout warning him he was going to be kicked right out of his chair. He ignored him until they were righted and out of danger.

        Keith took a breath. Then he turned his pilot’s chair toward New Guy who, to his credit, had stayed on his feet through all that, apparently for the soul purpose of glaring down at Keith. Keith opened his mouth to snap something, but Hunk and Salihovic's voice cut in.

         “Guys!”

         “WHAT!?” both pilots shouted back, the adrenaline and anger suddenly all aimed at the mechanics.

         “Our fuel tank ruptured and we’re on reserves,” Hunk informed, flatly.

         “What?” Keith shot back around. While all the other warning lights had faded off the screen, one had stayed. He just hadn’t noticed because he’d been so focused on, well, everything else. “Shit,” he said, throwing controls back to New Guy, who was already in his chair again. They tried. They really did.

         “Brace yourself!” Keith shouted because it was too late. They sailed down onto the moon’s surface. No amount of last minute maneuvers could save them. The simulator screen washed over with black as they came to a harsh jolting stop.

        Keith had crashed for the first time since he’d been accepted into the official Piloting Program. There was silence for a long, heavy moment. Then he stood up. He turned to the New Guy, not even sure what he was going to say, but he had leapt to his feet as well.

         “What the hell was that! You locked me out!” He rushed to get the words out, as if accusing Keith first would absolve him of guilt. He pushed into Keith’s space. Keith had never been good about keeping things verbal, not in moments like these, not when someone was so close to him, so loud, and so unapologetically _wrong_.

        Keith shoved him because he didn’t know anything else that could express what he was feeling in that moment. He felt 13, all wordless anger and frustration. The guy rocked back but was instantly in Keith’s space again. So, Keith shoved him harder. That’s when his collar was grabbed, and suddenly the rest of the crew were on their feet, chaos blossoming around them, a cacophony of pleas and shouts rushing at him. He couldn’t process any of them. He just grabbed the new guy, shoved him back. He pushed to break the hold on his shirt, so he could get the bit of space he needed to swing a good punch. Hands grabbed them. Bodies tried to push between them.

        It was Iverson that actually broke them apart. Keith had barely registered it was the commander and almost swung a punch but stopped himself just shy of _definite_ expulsion. They were thrown apart with a bellowing shout. The blood pumping through his veins flashed from fire to ice under the roaring voice of the commander. He felt his spine go rigid, his shoulders stiffen, a defense mechanism kicking in under the unceasing tirade.

        Keith didn’t know what the commander was shouting. His blood was still pounding in his ears. He’d taken a sharp turn from anger into shame, his mind racing with scathing commentary. He wondered when he had devolved into a kid picking fist fights with cadets. It’d been ages since he hit anything other than a punching bag, or Shiro if he was up for sparring. He didn’t even think about the lecture until he heard the uptilt of the commander’s voice that indicated he was demanding an answer.

         “Yessir,” Keith blurted, an affirmative usually being a safe bet.

        He saw the new guy glare at him in his periphery, slouched and beaten down by the words. He’d clearly taken them more to heart. Keith had learned better long ago.

         “Cadet?” Iverson snapped. The new guy’s eyes shot back to the commander.

         “Yessir,” he muttered.

         “Your teams will be reassigned and p-,” Iverson began again. Keith had started listening now that they were at the ‘punishment’ portion of the lecture. He generally had to know what sort of probation or detention he had to attend. He would usually take whatever it was with a resentful dignity and move on.

         “No,” Keith stated. He barely meant to. It was more instinct. “Sir,” he tagged on as an afterthought.

         “No?!” Iverson roared back.

         “No?” New Guy asked, almost as loud but somehow more shocked.

         “Cadet, I don’t think you understand that you don’t get to make that decision,” Iverson said, his voice tight.

         “With all due respect, sir,” Keith started, with none of the respect the commander was due in mind as he went on, “I don’t think the teams should be changed.”

         “Oh? And why is that, son?” he asked, with the absolute lack of mirth that comes with a person having none of the due respect paid to them.

         “I made a request and whether our first flight was successful or not doesn’t change the fact that we are a crew and should learn to work as one,” he said, though the words might have sounded more like ‘I dug this grave and I plan to lie down and die in it if that’s what it takes’. “We don’t give up or throw people out just because things don’t work out right away. Even if a crew isn’t ideal, we wouldn’t have the option to change it if we were on a mission this deep into space. This exercise forces us to face new dynamics and challenges and if we can’t handle this, do we really deserve to be in this program at all?” He met Commander Iverson’s dark, leering eye.

         “Are you saying, Cadet, that if you two can’t work out your little tiff… I should kick you both out of the Piloting Program?” he asked with the cold delight of someone who can kill two birds with one stone.

         “Yes,” Keith said so solidly that the panicked ‘no’ shouted next to him didn’t seem to matter.

         “You’ll keep your assignment, but if I don’t see _improvements_ don’t think that _any_ recommendations will save you, Mr. Kogane.” Iverson’s voice was ice.

         “Sir,” Keith responded mechanically, nodding his head.

        He dismissed the group and they all cleared off the simulator quietly. The audience waiting outside was quiet too. They marched back to their positions with the other cadets and went to wait out the rest of the new teams’ simulator runs. None of them paid attention to the scores. Keith just stared ahead. The New Guy kept sneaking glances at Keith, but he didn't turn to see what sort of faces he was making at him. He didn’t want to know.

        He was already questioning his decision to base his entire future on his ability to play nice with someone. He was horrible at playing nice. Eyes fixed on nothing on the far side of the room, he tried to sort out why he’d said anything at all. Part of him knew it was because he couldn’t disappoint Shiro with another disciplinary write up. Being kicked out for standing up for something he believed in sounded better than ‘I attacked a guy over a simulation run’. Another part, well, he didn’t know. Just like he didn’t know why he’d been so dead set on working with the new guy’s team to begin with.

        In the end, he wasn’t sure he ‘believed’ in this team, but he was certainly too stubborn to let it go. He’d make it work. They all had to now.

 

        Keith tried to leave as soon as they were dismissed. He wasn’t feeling like talking, but that was always when everyone had a lot to say to him. Story of his life.

         “Keith!” a myriad of voices called after him. The entire crew, both teams, were chasing after him. Katie snagged him first, snaking her way to the front to grab his sleeves.

         “Keith!” she was grinning ear to ear, her eyes wild, “You. Are so. Getting kicked out, but I swear when you said 'No' to Commander Iverson I nearly lost it!”

         “No one is getting kicked out,” New Guy insisted, his voice tense. He was slouched over, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Right?” he asked, a bit forcefully.

         “Of course not,” Hunk said, catching up with Salihovic just behind, puffing a little. “Because we’re all going to cooperate, right?” Cohen followed along less enthusiastic than the others because Keith was pretty sure the guy hated him. He wasn’t sure why, but even he couldn’t miss the glares.

         “I don’t plan on getting kicked out,” Keith stated, but he wasn’t convinced as he said it. He hadn’t expected the first run to be such a disaster and he wasn’t sure how to avoid it happening again. He looked to the new guy, trying to figure him out. He must have been staring too long because the guy caught his eyes and glared.

         “Did you really request me?” he blurted.

         “Yeah,” he said. He had thought that was clear from the get go. Apparently not.

         “Why?”

        Keith was taken off guard by the question, and it took him a long moment to answer. “Because I still would have landed us if the fuel tank hadn’t been ruptured.” There was a long silence between them, and Keith couldn’t read the look on his face at all.

         “Fine,” he said. “But we’re going to need some practice.” Hunk and Katie shared surprised looks.

         “How are we going to get practice? Iverson is going to kick you two out if you mess up the next simulation,” Cohen reminded in a dry, unimpressed voice.

         “Then we’ll just have to practice _before_ that,” the new guy replied as if it were obvious.

         “Yeah!” Hunk agreed. “Wait, how? I don’t think we’re on anyone’s ‘nice’ list right now. No one’s going to let us practice after hours.”

         “Especially not with the back-up simulator out of commission,” Salihovic tagged on.

         “The backup simulator!” Katie said excitedly. “We can just get that up and running and use that.”

         “How?” Cohen asked, irritated. Keith was more optimistic, though. If Katie said something it usually meant she was ready with a plan to back it up.

         “Hunk?” she asked.

         “I’ll have to take a look at it first. I mean, I can’t make any promises. It’s not like I can fix _everything_. Though… I don’t remember it seeming that bad off when it broke down,” Hunk mused.

         “So, Hunk can get it back up and running,” New Guy said without any hesitation, slapping his roommate on the back. Hunk ‘oof’ed but didn’t argue.

         “I can get us into the back room they have it in,” Katie informed, nonchalantly. 

         “We’re all going to break into Garrison facilities after hours to prevent _you two_ from getting kicked out,” Cohen asked.

         “Yep!” Katie cheered.

         “I’ll need to get my tools in there too,” Hunk noted, already mentally picturing the schematics, and what problems they might run into.

         “Then it’s settled,” Keith announced.

         “Uhm…” Salihovic said meekly.

         “Yeah, ‘UHM’,” Cohen repeated louder.

         “What, are you going to tell on us?” the new guy asked, standing up to his full height and raising an eyebrow at them. There was a long pause between the two, but Cohen relented. He wasn’t about to be branded a tattle tale. It wasn’t a good look on any teen, let alone one trying to slide under the radar as blasé and casually cool like Cohen

         “Fine, we’ll be there,” he said, answering for both of them. Salihovic didn’t argue but seemed terrified at the prospect.

        The rest of the plans were hashed out quickly. Now that they weren’t fighting and instead scheming towards a common goal, the possibility of them working together didn’t seem as farfetched. Keith considered he might not have to explain to Shiro how he got kicked out of the piloting program after all. Maybe.

 

 

 

        Hunk and Pidge didn’t have any real reason to know each other, other than an obligation on the part of the universe to throw two such nerds of their caliber someone they could have a good conversation with. They literally ran into each other the first week Pidge had been at the Garrison and swapped notebooks in the ensuing scramble to pick their stuff back up.

        Hunk, after realizing he’d accidentally stolen a notebook, didn’t see any harm in reading it. He was delighted with the theoretical navigation system detailed in it, and even more delighted to find he didn’t understand all the proposed programming involved. The other half was a more traditional diary, which he also thought was fine to peruse.

        Pidge was angry to find theories she’d thought were novel and exciting when she’d thought of them over the summer, dating back over 5 years in the mystery notebook that ended up in her hands, plus some she hadn't even thought of. Pidge did the only reasonable thing she could do in response. She hacked her way into the Garrison database and dug up every document on Hunk there was.

        They met next time with a mutual understanding that they knew a lot more about each other than a second meeting generally would entail. They became instant friends.

        The fact that they were 3 years apart was probably for the best. If they’d been in the same class and were allowed to work on projects together, no assignment would have been satisfactory until it was absurdly overdone. They likely would have created unholy contraptions far beyond the specifications of any rubric, and possibly the known laws of physics. Now they finally had their chance to work together and they were having a hard time staying focused.

 

        Keith glanced back around the corner, even though Pidge had told him she had an alert set up for the nightly patrols to tell them when to be quiet during their repairs. He liked double checking things for himself. He was that sort of person. His attention was called back to the duo when Cohen projected his sigh loud enough to draw attention to himself.

         “Keith, will you tell these two we’re just supposed to be fixing it, not _redesigning_ the entire thing?” he asked. Pidge took offense to this.

         “Just because _you_ couldn’t update the programming to be more realistic doesn’t mean I should do a half-assed job,” she said.

         “Yes. It does!” he insisted. “Because we won’t be tested on your ‘updated’ version.”

         “I can see why your team doesn’t bother to ask you to do anything during runs,” Pidge muttered.

         “Excuse me?!” he said, straightening up from his calculated casual lean to glare.

         “Guy’s we’re supposed to be getting along,” Hunk’s voice came from under the simulator. His hand popped out. “Could you hand me the--oh yeah perfect. Thanks, Salihovic.” He happily accepted the wrench from his Team Keith counterpart.

         “Yeah, play nice, Holt,” Lance said sharply. “You already have your resident asshole. No team needs two.”

         “Oh, is _that_ why your team always scores so low? Too many assholes?” Pidge asked smirking.

         “Hey! Did you just call Hunk an asshole!?” He sounded ready to fight.

         “No. Hunk’s the only decent one on your team,” she assured.

         “Oh, all right then,” Lance said, seeming to have lost all his fight when he realized he didn’t have to defend Hunk’s honor. Pidge smiled at that. Maybe Lance wasn’t so bad after all. “Hey, wait,” he said belatedly.

         “Stay focused,” Keith cut in, frowning at the group. He didn’t like the ruckus they were making on a covert operation like this, and it showed.

         “Oh, loosen up, mullet,” Lance said, leaning back. “We’re bonding. This is how teenagers bond.” He waved a hand broadly around the room.

         “By insulting each other?” Pidge asked.

         “Absolutely, ya nerd,” he said, flashing a grin. Pidge decided she did like Lance. He only had enough meanness in him to sincerely insult one person at a time, and Keith was a lightning rod for his ire.

         “Shut up, cargo pilot,” Pidge retorted. Lance’s hand leapt to his heart.

         “Oo! Low blow, Holt. Low blow,” Lance said, but he wasn’t upset. They grinned at each other, hostility put aside for good. Keith frowned between them, but Pidge was pretty sure it was just him trying to work out Lance. To be fair, the guy didn’t make it easy on him.

         “I think I got it!” came a muffled shout from under the simulator. All eyes went to Hunk rolling out and grinning. “Pidge, start her up!”

        Pidge was already off her laptop and on her way, hopping over Salihovic and skipping around Lance to turn on the simulator. There had been a horrible grinding noise last time it tried to lift itself into the automatic starting position when they’d arrived the night before. Today it lifted up and went through its full range of motion, smooth as butter.

         “We are a go!” Pidge shouted. She got a few ‘shush’ing noises, but Lance was willing to let out a ‘whoop’ of excitement.

 

        They didn’t sneak out the next night, Hunk insisting they had to get _some_ sleep. It was one of the few things Pidge had disagreed with him on. He had noticed the crackling embers of a fight still lingering between Lance and Keith, though and didn’t want to risk his teammates getting grouchy. The night after they were back to do some real practice.

        They started out, after a brief scuffle for seating, with a straight forward mission. This was the sort of mission the rest of the joint crews had been given that first day. It was designed to get used to the new dual controls, shared space, and larger craft.

        It went… surprisingly well. They flew. Lance didn’t try any stunts, and possibly more outlandish, neither did Keith. Their cruiser landed on the fake terrain of an unspecified moon and a rather cheerful score popped up on the viewer.

         “Well, that was nice,” Hunk said, sounding pleased.

         “Yeah…” Cohen said, but sounded more suspicious than optimistic about it.

         “Hmm,” Keith half grunted before standing up. “I guess we can fly together,” he said. He didn’t sound happy, though.

        Pidge glanced around, wondering if anyone had an idea what had just happened, but found all eyes on her, as if she were the Keith expert. Which she supposed she was. It wasn’t a title she was prepared to take on though, so she shrugged. The simulator was surprisingly quiet for a long moment until Lance shoved himself up, as loud as he could make the process. Keith’s head swiveled to him.

         “You got something to say, fly boy?” Lance snarled.

         “No,” Keith said blandly. “You flew perfectly adequately.”

         “Adequately?” Lance asked. “Okay. Sit down.” He was already turning around and dropping himself back into his seat. “Holt! Give us something more exciting. You know Iverson isn’t letting us off that easy anyway!” he half shouted. To both crews’ surprise, Keith sat back down.

         “Are you going to make this worth my while this time?” he asked.

         “Oh, you betcha, Mullet,” Lance said, his tone almost manic.

        Pidge, with a shrug, set the simulator to the highest level of difficulty and started their new run.

        They crashed. It wasn’t even a salvageable crash for Hunk, all fire and grim death reports. They were toasted corpses on the side of an asteroid. In their defense, it was the sort of mission that even veteran pilots would have struggled with.

         “Why didn’t you pull up?!” Keith asked in a snap.

         “Me? Why didn’t I pull up? Because I thought we were going down! You said under!” Lance cried back.

         “Under then _over_ ,” he replied as if it should be obvious.

         “Oh, yeah, thanks, because I’m psychic and knew that,” Lance snipped back.

         “I thought Katie’s proximity alerts were enough, but-!,” he shouted and paused. “I guess you haven’t worked with her as long...”

         “Yeah! Well!” Lance started, trying to still be in a huff, but floundered, “I guess I’ll just have to get better at listening to the rest of the crew too.” He was frowning as if confused that this wasn’t escalating into a screaming match.

        Pidge and Hunk exchanged glances, both equally shocked for their respective pilot.

         “Give us something more fun than dodging asteroids, Holt!” Lance shouted suddenly, his voice perking back up.

         “Can do!” Pidge called back.

        They almost didn’t crash this time. Almost. It frustrated Keith, but Lance was calling for the next flight before he had time to grouse. They went on like that for two more nights. They never turned down the difficulty which meant they were still crashing. The shouting didn’t stop either, but it came with less bite and more listening. Not to say their banter was insult free, but it didn’t feel as vicious. Keith relaxed. Hell, Lance relaxed.

        By the fourth night, even Cohen seemed to be in the spirit of things. That might have just been because he was allowed to play the role of Iverson and throw whatever vicious curve ball he thought up into the simulation. It made it a game, and to everyone’s surprise, they didn’t do too horribly. By the last night, they finally started landing some missions.

 

        Lance was actually excited about Friday. At the beginning of the week he would have expected another disaster like their first run through the simulator, but now he was almost willing to forget for the day that Keith was his ultimate rival. At least, he’d put it aside until they could properly compete head to head again. He wasn’t starting to _like_ him or anything, since he was, after all, an insufferable jerk still.

        Lance showed up to the morning simulation run with a buzzing of excitement from all the students. Some of that was due to their team. No one would put it past Commander Iverson to actually kick the whole lot of them out if they didn’t manage to play nice, and after last week, they were prepared for a show. Some of the buzz had nothing to do with them, though. In all the craziness of the week he could have forgotten there was other things for students to be talking about. He’d nearly forgotten two very important things about that Friday. First: it was their last day before spring break. Second: the Kerberos Mission was to do land early the next morning.

        Lance smiled to himself, realizing he had an in again. Holt was being friendly enough he was pretty sure he could talk his way into shaking hands with the whole crew, maybe even autographs. Since Hunk and he were staying on the base for spring break, there might even be time to talk Holt into letting them actually _meet_ the crew for real, or at least the other Holts. He wasn’t sure if Keith had the same level of pull, but if he could meet Takashi Shirogane over spring break as well, he wouldn’t even be jealous of the kids being flown off to exotic locations for break.

        The cadets all fell in line and even Cohen seemed in a decent mood, al be it still pretending to be grumpy and yawning pointedly at the rest of the joint crew. He hadn’t been pleased with how many nights in a row he’d been dragged out of bed. It would be worth it, though, to see the look on Iverson’s face. He glanced to Keith with ideas to pantomime the sentiment to him somehow but found Keith’s spot empty.

        Lance frowned, for all the trouble Keith could be at the Garrison, his charges usually didn’t include tardiness. He looked to Holt, caught her eyes, then meaningfully jerked his head to the empty spot. She just shrugged. Lance and Hunk exchanged worried glances and hoped that he’d get there before Iverson noticed, or at least before he decided to pick on them.

        Luck was not with their team that day. That or Keith’s absence was noticed immediately and Commander Iverson was in a particularly sadistic mood. Lance’s team was the first called up. When they lined up he raised an eyebrow.

         “We seem to be short a man,” he announced. The group ‘yessir’ed, because there was nothing else to say. “I suppose that won’t be a problem for you, though, Cadet,” he said stopping in front of Lance, “Seeing as how you didn’t seem keen on co-piloting last time anyway. Would you like to give it a shot?”

         “No sir,” Lance replied, knowing there was no way they’d get an easy enough run for him to fly alone.

         “I request permission to postpone our assessment until Cadet Kogane gets here,” Hunk piped up. He withered back under the glare he received for it.

         “Get back in line, cadets,” Iverson ordered. The group shuffled back into the audience and a new group was called forward.

        They all exchanged glances, but no one seemed to have any answers. Lance felt his excitement slowly sink down into the pit of his stomach and die. He’d spent the whole week losing beauty sleep, training, working with _Keith_ to show Iverson they weren’t a screw up, _he_ wasn’t a screw up, and now, when it came to the day, Keith was gone.

        His mind rushed through every possibility from him getting trapped in the showers (the West dorm shower door did tend to stick when it got warmer in the spring. Was he in the west dorm?) to him dying in a ditch somewhere after some sort of freak accident walking across the quad. Despite all the powers of his imagination, in the end, he decided there was a much more obvious explanation. Keith had ditched the class, the assignment, and his team, because he’d never cared about being in the Garrison. He was dragged in because he was ‘talented’ but he didn’t want it like Lance did. This is the answer that stuck in Lance’s brain above all else.

        By the time every other group had gone, and Lance’s team was called up again, he could feel the hope and excitement rotted down in the pit of his stomach and now he was just mad. He was mad he was going to be put in the simulator without a substitute co-pilot because Iverson wanted to ‘make an example’ of him. He was mad Keith hadn’t thought it was important enough to show up. Worst, though, was mad at his own gnawing feeling of betrayal from having thought they were actually a team, that _Keith_ would _want_ to be part of his team.

        Cohen walked by him as he stopped just inside the simulator, wondering if he could just walk right back out instead. He patted his shoulder. “Keith’s a flake. None of us should be surprised,” he said. For once, he had to agree with him. His snippy attitude didn’t seem quite so unreasonable anymore.

 

        The run went surprisingly well. They crashed, of course, but Hunk and Salihovic repaired the leaking conduit that suddenly burst, and Pidge corrected their misaligned navigation system when Cohen noted they almost crashed into a non-existent mountain. In the end though, they still crashed because Lance was Lance, and this wasn’t something he was supposed to have to do alone.

        The screen blacked out and the team walked out of the simulator unable to break the somber tone that Lance led with, even if they had done significantly better than anticipated. The students waiting outside even seemed to think so. Criticism was light for the usually bloodthirsty cadets. It often ended with “not too bad for completing the mission down a man”.

        Iverson dismissed the class without kicking Lance out of the program, which should have been a relief. He found even that didn’t help improve his mood. He couldn’t even speak by the end of it, his teeth clenched so tight he wasn’t sure anything would have gotten out if he’d tried.

         “Laaance, are you okay?” Hunk’s concerned voice called after him, but he was stomping out of the classroom the moment they were dismissed. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he was determined. Afternoon classes be damned, they could wait until after he’d punched Keith Kogane in the face. “Laaaannnnce,” he called again in his ‘let’s be reasonable’ voice.

         “I’m gonna kill him!” Lance announced. Cadet’s parted in front of him at that.

         “Lance, no,” Hunk called, power walking after him, but running into the wake of people that didn’t want anything to do with whatever trouble was going on.

         “Lance, yes,” Lance shouted.

         “I’ll help you find him,” Pidge said, coming up to his side. She was small enough to slip through the crowd better than Hunk. She whipped out her laptop to start typing away as they walked. They turned a corner to a less crowded hall and Lance and Pidge paused there long enough for Hunk to catch up.

         “Pidge!” Hunk scolded.

         “What?” Pidge was glaring up through her glasses at him. “Aren’t you mad?”

         “I… well… it was a shitty thing for him to not show up. But maybe he just got stuck in the West Dorm showers! Those doors stick sometimes. Or what if he’s hurt?” He started listing, “Maybe there was a horrible freak accident and he’s broken both his legs and can’t get up to get help,” he said dramatically. “Won’t you two feel horrible when you find out--”

         “There he is,” Pidge cut him off to say, pointing at a grainy feed from a surveillance camera on her laptop showing someone peeking around a corner, a bandana over their face and a duffle bag over their shoulder.

         “Are you sure that’s Keith?” Hunk asked, skeptically.

         “I’d know that mullet anywhere,” Lance growled.

         “Where is he going?” Hunk asked.

         “He’s outside the East Wing Garage,” Pidge informed.

         “Good, we’ll head him off. Keep an eye on him, Holt,” Lance ordered.

         “You’re not really going to punch him, are you?” Hunk asked, trailing after the two as Pidge advised on the target’s status and Lance barely kept himself from breaking into a running with an intense power walk. Pidge and even occasionally Hunk had to break into a full jog to keep up.

        “Oh-hohoho, you better believe it buddy,” Lance said, and Hunk could swear he almost saw a smile on his lips, but it was a scary one. Hunk groaned and kept following, hoping he could at least break them up before someone ended up with any serious injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Quick! Everyone run! It's common sense!! (JK, none of that around here guys don't worry).
> 
> Honestly I'm excited to get into the next few chapters! They're gonna be fun to write~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kerberos mission arrives home! But the welcome party is a little lighter than expected...
> 
> This chapter: meet Team Responsibility!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little longer to work this chapter out, ended up splitting it in half (because of course I did hahaha).
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it! Cuz I love writing for Shiro and Matt tbqh

* * *

  **Galaxy Garrison Mission Logs: Kerberos Mission (20XX)**

Media file _: saturn signal_unknown origin_RA-18h19m37.8sDec-22.46.38_021020XX.xyz_

_Attached is a portion of unidentified signal readings picked up while passing close to Saturn and its moons Enceladus and Dione. Signal of an unknown origin and matches no data in onboard file records. Commander Holt and other crew members have suggested signal may be a result of equipment failure or interference. I would like the following statement on record if these readings lead to any significant scientific findings: “I told you so”._

Matthew Holt 02-10-20XX

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 3**

 

        Shiro hadn’t expected that disappearing for a year would solve his problems.

        The 36 hours leading up to the launch of the Kerberos Mission had been so packed full of checks and rechecks, packing and farewells, it was a blur. It didn’t feel real in comparison to the months and years before. He wouldn't say he was in denial, but he certainly hadn’t spent the last year focused on coping with those changes that had happened in that last day and a half. There had been plenty of things to do to keep himself preoccupied and avoid thinking about who would and wouldn’t be waiting at home for him.

        He shouldn’t have been surprised that Adam wasn’t there to greet him. He  _did_  allow himself to be surprised that Keith wasn't though. He wondered what sort of trouble Keith could have gotten himself into that Commander Iverson wouldn’t take a personal request and let him be part of the welcoming committee.

        He didn't have much time to worry about it, luckily. Colleen Holt wouldn't have him standing there getting sober congratulations from colleagues as his welcome home. She waved him over fervently, even as she still smothered her elder child and junior science officer, Matt, in a lung crushing hug. Shiro smiled and excused himself from an ever growing line of handshakes. The second he was in arms length, she caught him, dragging him mercilessly into a kiss on his cheek and a hug.

         “Where’s Katie?” Matt asked, darting away now that he’d paid his dues and someone else was caught in Colleen’s motherly affection. “Can’t even be bothered to greet dad and me after a year? I don’t remember my Garrison days being  _that_  hectic." The glint in his eyes showed he was eager to tease his little sister. He’d spent a year as the most junior member of the crew, and he was ready to re-establish himself as ‘not the baby’.

         “Oh, you know how it is with teens,” she said, finally releasing Shiro after checking him over and ruffling his hair. “She’s off with her new friends. Some project or another,” she sighed. “Though you’d think she could spare a moment for her father.” She eyed her husband.

         “Are you done welcoming all your sons home?” Sam Holt, her husband and mission commander of the returning crew, had waited patiently to greet his wife.

         “Oh, Samuel, you’re as beautiful is ever,” Colleen crooned sweetly at him, throwing her arms open.

         “You’re as handsome as the day we met, love,” he replied stepping into her arms and smoothly swooping her into a dip, following after to give her a smooch.

         “I can’t believe she isn’t here!” Matt went on, pointedly ignoring his parents' PDA, “I have so much to tell her. Dad doesn’t even think those readings around Saturn were cool."

         “The malfunctions?" Shiro asked.

         “You all have no imagination,” he snipped. Then he cleared his throat and tacked on a quick “Sir”. Shiro chuckled.

         “We’ll find you someone to theorize with. We have a debriefing first, and then physicals, then...,” Shiro continued to list off their obligations even though it was clear Matt had stopped listening after ‘debriefing’.

         “I’m a little surprised some other people aren't here too,” Matt said lowly, trying to sound casual as he looked around. Shiro was quiet long enough Matt was forced to look at him.

         “Well, I imagine people were assigned duties elsewhere,” he said, with equally unconvincing casualness. He didn’t meet Matt’s eyes.

         “And Keith!” Matt shouted, changing the mood sharply. He’d gotten to know Keith during their transmissions home through Katie and Shiro. He seemed to think Keith would fit in as another adopted Holt. “I thought you asked Iverson to let him greet you! Why is everyone ditching us! We’re space heroes! Where’s my throngs of fans?” he demanded. Shiro snorted.

         “I’m sure we can find you some fans too,” Shiro said. Matt grinned at him, “after the debriefing, and the physical, and-”

         “I get it. I get it.” Matt sighed, trudging to their post mission duties with the rest of the crew. 

 

        It was evening by the time they were officially released, but not nearly as late as either of them had expected. The base was oddly still, only a last few bustling cadets leaving for their family vacations, as others settled in for a glorious week without obligations. The normal base functions continued, but it was a quiet hum in comparison to when Cadets were present. There was only so well-behaved hundreds of teens could be, military training facility or otherwise.

        Shiro stepped out and breathed in. He got to have spring break too, coming off his mission right into it. It was nostalgic. He felt like he should be running off to Cali with some friends and not nearly enough money to get back again. It was almost like he was a cadet again, set loose and not sure what to do with ‘free time’. It wasn’t something he’d had in years. He’d rarely let himself have it when he  _was_  a student. There was always another training, another program, another opportunity to rush forward faster so maybe he could get closer to the finish line before…

        Shiro touched his arm reflexively. For a moment at least, he thought he should take it easy. It’d be nice to have a week to relax. Then he’d probably be back to teaching, flight drills, looking for the next Big Thing™. He'd give himself  _one_  relaxing week, though.

         “Mom and Dad are already off. I think they wanted a head start before us kids ruin things,” Matt said, popping up next to Shiro. “I’m supposed to track down the gremlin and bring ‘em home. We can probably find Keith too.”

         “Sounds like they really hit it off,” Shiro noted, smiling lightly. He dropped his hand to the side quickly. He hated drawing attention to his arm.

         “I was a little afraid of what the two of them would get up to, to be completely honest,” Matt noted and Shiro laughed. “No, really!” Matt laughed too. “Katie is a horrible influence and I was like, ‘oh no, all that hard work Shiro is doing to get this kid on the straight and narrow and my little sister’s going to ruin it!’.” Shiro snorted at that.

         “Yeah right,” Shiro replied.

         “I was half afraid we would come back, and the garrison would be in flames,” Matt insisted dramatically.

        They laughed and let the conversation lull. They’d learned to fall into an easy silence between them, after spending so much time in close quarters. They headed towards the dorms, walking quietly across the base with no particular sense of urgency. The sun was setting and there was a cool breeze coming in from the west. They could have taken some form of transportation, but it was refreshing to walk without an endpoint in sight, while feeling weighted and fixed on something larger than themselves. 

 

         “Katie says they’re working on a project-who assigns a project over spring break!?” Matt asked as they neared the academic portion of the base.

         “Montgomery?” Shiro offered.

         “Nah, I bet it’s Harris. Says she’s working on it with Keith. They have Harris together right?” he asked. Shiro shrugged. “Let’s surprise them. I bet they won't think we're out already.” Shiro nodded, liking the idea. “They’re in the student’s lounge probably.”

         “That’s fine. You look 14, no one will question it,” Shiro commented off handedly, passing him.

         “Rude!” Matt shouted at his back. “I look a solid 16, anyway!”

         “I’ll give you 15.” Shiro offered half over his shoulder. He wasn’t surprised when he had to take a double step as the bottom of his foot was kicked on his next step. “Okay, let’s go find them.”

        They didn’t find them. They weren’t in the student’s lounge, or the library, or the workshop, or their rooms. They didn’t seem to be anywhere. While Shiro didn’t mind the walk down memory lane, he was starting to run out of ideas.

         “Okay,” Shiro said in defeat. “I give up. We don’t get to surprise them. Let’s just ask where they are.” Matt pulled out his phone, conceding as well. They walked across the quad back in their comfortable quiet again, just enjoying the little things like wind, and natural sunlight.

         “Weird…” Matt broke the silence.

         “Hm?”

         “Hold on,” Matt said, tapping away on his phone. Shiro waited. Finally, Matt said, “Either my baby sister is a stowaway and my parents don’t know, or I’m being lied to.” He made meaningful eye contact with Shiro who proceeded to check his own messages.

         “Keith hasn’t responded to me since we landed…” They both paused, knowing their respective charges well enough to know something was amiss.

         “She has to know this plan could fall apart so easily,” Matt muttered to himself, slowing his walk. Then he stopped, Shiro stopping beside him. “She’s banking on me not getting her in trouble or being too busy to notice she's not here.”

         “What, do you think she snuck out?” Shiro asked, frowning. Matt shrugged. “They both snuck out?” Matt shrugged harder.

         “They do roll call for students staying over breaks. So, either they’ll show up by tonight or they’ll be checked out.” Shiro and Matt changed directions in unison.

 

        The two officers were making a very determined path through the halls. They didn’t know what was going on, but they were going to find out. They pushed the door open and entered the student affairs office, but before they had even made it to the desk, Shiro disappeared out of Matt’s periphery. His head shot up, finding himself suddenly alone. Then he looked forward again.

        Sitting behind the tall desk was a sandy haired, bespectacled man who Matt instantly recognized as Shiro’s ex, Adam. The man raised his head and they made the briefest of eye contact. Matt’s mouth leapt into an awkward smile, as he turned around sharply and left the room, not as stealthily as Shiro had managed.

        Around the corner, just out of view from the glass doors, he found the man who had braved crash landings and emergency equipment failure in the void of space with collected confidence, panicking. Shiro paced the tiny distance between the door and the window into the office a few feet away, eyes wide. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Matt.

        Matt threw his hands up, silently asking ‘what the hell was that?!’

        Shiro opened his mouth and gestured aimlessly in such a way to convey, “Ahh-I- uhmm… so, uh. Yeah, y-you see. The thing about it is! Uh…”

        Matt sighed and rolled his eyes, then made a quick set of gestures. He waved dismissively at Shiro, then pointed to himself, then back towards the door, suggesting he'd go back in alone.

        For a moment Shiro relaxed. Then he was stiff again and shook his head. He put up his hands and forced his face into a casual expression.

        Matt gestured between them, but his face made it clear this was a question.

        Shiro nodded solidly.

        They turned back around and headed into the office together again, walking in with a forced nonchalance.

        Adam’s eyes flick down from something behind them as they entered the room. With a brief glance over his shoulder, Matt noticed the large rounded mirror setup on the hallway wall to show cross traffic. He glanced nervously at Shiro, who still wore his fake casual look. He decided it was best not to mention Adam had likely seem their entire silent communication.

        Adam’s eyes went from Shiro to Matt, his face a completely blank, uninviting slate. There was a tense silence in the air and every whispered bit of gossip Matt had heard about the train wreck that had been their pre-mission break up flashed through his head. The tension was so palpable, he was practically swimming his way through it to the desk.

         “Hi!” he blurted, taking a mallet to the tension because he had no idea what else to do. He continued talking before he lost his nerve. “We were wondering if we could get the check in status for my little sister and Kei-,” Matt felt his foot nudge and he snapped his mouth closed, clearing his throat. “Katie Holt, that would be,” he covered. He smiled even wider.

       "Sure," he said, his voice measured. There was quiet tapping on the keyboard hidden behind the desk as his eyes dropped to the screen. After a pause he added, “I’m surprised the two of you are out of debriefings already." 

         “Went quick,” Shiro replied, a meaningless short comment. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but when the key taps paused, and Adam glanced back up to Shiro for a long moment, Matt felt like the whole room turned to ice. It thawed only when his eyes went slowly back to the screen. Matt breathed again, but barely.

        The silence was stifling. Matt thought he would die if there wasn’t some casual small talk soon. He’d spent the entire day doing mission reports. Everyone wanted to know about the mission. They were minor celebrities! But here they were in awkward tense silence despite the obvious easy way out.

         “So…” Matt said, for his sanity’s sake. “Uhm… you aren’t usually behind a desk, let alone stuck in the student facilities, right?” he asked, with an awkward laugh for good measure.

         “No, usually I wouldn’t be on this side of the base at all,” Adam agreed, not bothering to look up. Matt glanced to Shiro for help, but he was too busy staring intensely at his ex to even notice.

         “What… brings you around these parts?” he asked, trying to keep the void filled somehow.

         “I took a shift for Park,” he explained.

        Matt glanced over in time to see Shiro’s mouth moving silently, repeating the name ‘Park’. He snapped his mouth closed when Adam looked up.

         “Katie Holt has been checked out by Colleen Holt this morning,” he informed.

         “This morning?” Matt burst, forgetting to be casual.

         “Yes…” Adam replied, eyeing Matt now.

         “When this morning?” he pressed.

         “You know I can’t give you any more information as you aren’t technically a legal guardian,” Adam replied dully.

         “Ah, you know what? You’re right! Mom must have checked her out first. Duh. Here I was thinking I had to drive her," he said, trying to keep his voice light.

         “Right…. Was there anything else you needed me to look up?” he said, looking pointedly at Shiro.

         “Nope,” Shiro replied too quickly. Adam didn’t look convinced.

         “I need coffee,” he muttered, standing up. He paused to look at them again, “Shirogane. Holt.” He nodded to them briefly before leaving the desk and disappearing into the staff room.

        Not waiting for Shiro to recover from the brief interaction, Matt shot around the desk the second the door shut and leaned over the computer. While he was tapping away hurriedly, Shiro automatically took on the role of look out. The high desk hid him from hallway view, but it wouldn’t save him if Adam or any other staff member came back. He quickly found the details of Katie’s check out as well as searched Keith’s status. Then, suspicion rising in him, he dug deeper.

        Shiro made a discrete sound to warn Matt someone was returning. He quickly shut down all his investigating and scurried back around the desk. In a moment he was ushering Shiro out of the office just in time to avoid questions. He dragged him quickly somewhere they could talk.

 

         “Keith has a disciplinary mark for skipping Iverson’s class yesterday, but then was listed as sick for the day. Both him and Katie supposedly left this morning, but I suspect it was sooner. She had Rodgers and Montgomery in the afternoon, and you know how they are. They’d never mark someone off for playing hooky the day before a holiday. Plus, I was digging a little and it’s obvious it was hacked and set up to check them out this morning, it looks like maybe a couple other students too, but I didn’t have time to find out which.”

         “You think Katie hacked the Garrison computer system?” Shiro asked, his face stuck between condemnation, concern, and honest admiration.

         “Oh yeah, it was definitely her,” Matt said. She'd made that much absolutely clear, at least for Matt.

         “So, they’re gone, probably something they think will take multiple days, and they likely brought at least one or two other students with them?” Shiro summarized.

         “Looks like it.” Matt nodded.

         “And Keith is already on Commander Iverson’s bad side, who has a direct connection to the disciplinary office and wouldn’t be afraid to use it,” he added.

         “Oh yeah, definitely not afraid to use it,” Matt agreed, from firsthand experience.

         “He’d probably call this kidnapping or child endangerment,” Shiro said, his hand going to the bridge of his nose and pinching it.

         “Oh my god!” Matt almost laughed, “Oh god he would! No… no she’s old enough… maybe?” The look Shiro shot him was serious for a moment, but then he sighed, helplessly shrugging. “I guess this means we have to track them down and make sure they get back all in one piece before spring break is over.”

         “Keith still hasn’t responded to me,” Shiro said grimly.

         “Katie is still pretending I must be misremembering what she texted,” he said with a wry laugh.

         “She knows you can just scroll up, right?” Shiro asked, frowning lightly.

         “Oh, no, our messenger deletes conversation history,” Matt explained. He saw Shiro begin to ask ‘why’ but immediately decide against it and nod instead.

         “It sounds like we’re looking for clues then.”

         “Katie won’t have left anything lying around.”

         “We’ll start with Keith’s room then,” Shiro agreed.

 

        It didn’t take long to get into Keith’s room and they didn’t even have to break in. Shiro just knocked on the RA’s door, smiled, and said Keith had forgotten something. Matt didn’t miss the glimpse of the infamous Shirogane Takashi Recruitment Poster pinned up on the wall over his shoulder. Matt wondered sometimes if Shiro knew his level of celebrity among the cadets. Particularly at moments like this when he couldn’t tell if the smile was sincere or calculated at the fawning cadet in front of him.

        They were let into the room and Shiro managed to dismiss the cadet with such praise he was red from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck. He babbled and nodded and scampered off, nearly running into the doorway.

         “Do you  _know_  you’re a gay icon or are you really just like this?” Matt asked when the door closed behind him. Shiro turned and blinked at him so innocently confused it was hard to believe it was real. “You know what! Never mind,” Matt decided, throwing his hands up in defeat and turning to investigate the room instead.

        Keith roomed alone, seeing as how he hadn't been very used to sharing his space before the Garrison. Shiro admitted he didn’t think he could cover for Keith if his roommate groggily nudged him awake and found themself at knifepoint… again.

        The room was very Keith. It was sparse and yet still a mess. It didn't tip over into grungy, though. Nothing in his room smelled any worse than general teenage boy stink and no food was rotting or old milk coagulating. Overall it was better than Pidge’s room probably.

        Shiro wasn’t usually the breaking and entering or invading people's privacy sort, but Keith didn’t count as people anymore. Keith was like family. He was his little brother, and as such Shiro felt he had an obligation to keep him from getting himself expelled in the last few months before graduation, or anything worse. He was fairly sure the youngest Holt was old enough it wasn’t automatically kidnapping to take her somewhere without permission, but he didn’t want to have the conversation with Commander and Mrs. Holt about it either way.

        He spotted a poorly latched trunk with something sticking out at the foot of Keith's bed. Crouching down he opened it. It was stuffed with papers and printouts covered in scribbled notes and hastily circled and underlined data points. He called Matt over.

         “Any idea what this is?” he asked. Matt was good at interpreting data and picking out anomalies. The young science officer plopped himself down, cross legged next to the trunk. He started casually digging through the papers but was quickly engrossed with the stacks of strange data.

        Shiro left him to it. He stood up and started wandering around the room more, looking for any other clues. He found a makeshift machine hooked up to a printer, but it looked like it had been gutted. The place looked a bit ransacked, but that could have just been Keith leaving in a hurry… or just Keith in general.

         “Ahah!” Matt shouted. Shiro spun around to find Matt was holding a sheet of paper up triumphantly. “This! This is what I was talking about!” he waved the sheet around excitedly. Shiro rushed over.

         “ ‘Talking about’?” Shiro repeated, tilting his head to try to get a better look. Matt sprung up and shoved the print out into Shiro’s hands.

         “When we were passing Saturn and you all told me it was just a hiccup in the system or some interference,” Matt said, but Shiro just stared not seeming to see it in the data. “Well, you all ignored it but that’s the same weird readings I picked up on the way back. I have it in the system logs somewhere!” he insisted.

         “Okay, okay, I believe you. What does it mean?” he asked.

         “It  _means_  that whatever was giving off a signal around Saturn, there’s something similar on Earth,” he said, now grinning.

         “Where?”

         “Uh… well, that’s the thing,” Matt hesitated. He picked up a few more sheets from the pile. “It seems like it flickers and sometimes gives false positives? There’s at least some very frustrated looking marks that suggest Keith went out and found nothing,” he laughed a little at a crude note scratched into the margins of a sheet. “I’d need to build something to actively lock onto this specific signal and maybe once we got near we could track down the origin or finalize the negative reading more quickly. But that would require…” Matt trailed off into theorizing about the necessary equipment to properly track down the origin point.

         “So,” Shiro interrupted, “does this mean they’re chasing these phantom signals?”

         “What? Oh-yeah, probably!” He nodded. “I would be."

        "How long have these signals been going on?" he asked.

        "These date back years," Matt commented.

        "Why hasn't anyone noticed them before?"

         "I’m guessing people have just ignored it as blips and static since it looks like it disappears and reappears. I wonder if it’s being relayed through something else…” he trailed off again into theoretical mutterings.

         “Can we figure out where they’re heading?” Shiro asked hopefully.

         “Oh no!” Matt shook his head. “I’d need like a week to get something up and running that could read this properly. Maybe less if we had the machine Keith was using but… well it looks like that’s already been massacred.” He eyed the disassembled tech across the room.

         “Do these readings give you any clearer idea?” Shiro tried again.

         “Not without the most current reading, and none of these have dates and seem intentionally disordered. It’d take me awhile to figure out a pattern…” Matt shuffled the papers.

         “So… we have nothing to go on,” Shiro sighed.

         “No… oh! But the vehicle Keith checked out is under your name. You could track it, right?” he asked.

         “What… vehicle did he check out?” Shiro said, his face cringing slightly.

         “Uh… it was listed as a ‘white sedan’. Whatever that means,” he said.

         “Oh. No, we can’t track that,” he said. At Matt’s questioning look he went on, “it’s too old. There’s no anti-theft tracking. There’s barely a computer system on it at all.”

        Matt looked scandalized at the idea. “How old  _is_  it? Why do you even own it?”

         “I thought it was neat,” Shiro said, frowning. “I got it a bit before I knew I was going to Kerberos so I haven’t fixed it up entirely…”

         “Sounds like we could start walking and we’d find it on the side of the road…” Matt noted.

         “It runs! I mean, it has some problems, but it runs!” Matt picked up on Shiro’s defensiveness for his ancient vehicle and dropped the subject.

         “Okay, okay… well, if we can’t track the car… Oh! I can track Pidge.” Matt was grinning suddenly, a devious sort of look on his face.

         “How?” Shiro asked.

         “See, we both agreed a while ago that we didn’t like the idea of companies having access to our call logs,” Shiro was giving him a skeptical look, and it was Matt’s turn to be defensive. “Not that we were doing anything illegal, but you know! On principle, we don’t like to be reliant on big companies and give up our personal information. What if we need to go off the grid?” Matt waved a hand at Shiro before he could say anything., “Well, either way we go through a device I had dad put on the last sa-”

         “Commander Holt is in on this?” Shiro interrupted.

         “Oh… uh… no?” Matt tried. Shiro shook his head.

         “Well, does it mean we can track them down before they’re found out?” he asked. He wasn’t here to debate the finer legal details of things today. He was already bending (or breaking) enough rules himself.

         “I think so. It might be a little off, but I bet I can get us a heading if she keeps her phone active,” he said, nodding. That was good enough.

 

        They grabbed a bare minimum of supplies before they met up again at the garage. They were hurrying, packs on their shoulders, determination in their eyes, heading towards Shiro’s car. Something was still bugging him, though.

         “Do you remember Park?” Shiro asked suddenly.

         “Who?”

         “Park. He was closer to your year than mine I think, right?” he pressed. It was bugging him that he couldn’t put a face to the name.

         “I don’t remember a Park. What are we talking about?” Matt asked, confused.

         “Adam, earlier. He said he was covering for Park. I’m trying to remember who that was,” he explained. They turned the corner to where Shiro had left his vehicle stored while he was off Earth.

         “Park was a year above us. Graduated with honors.”

        Shiro’s head snapped up to find Adam leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting for them.

         “What are you--” Shiro was cut off.

         “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell you were up to something, Shirogane?” he asked, his voice drier than the desert.

         “What do you mean? We're not up to anything,” Matt lied.

         “Oh really.”

         “Really,” Shiro defended Matt's lie. Adam didn’t budge from his place against the car, waiting to be convinced. “We’re just-”

         “Just sneaking out to get Keith out of trouble,” he finished for him. “Because he ran off with the Holt girl, hence you.” He gestured curtly at Matt. “And with the new pilot and mechanic that joined the piloting program. Funny thing is, there’s no footage of any of them leaving, or  _your_  vehicle signed out under Keith’s name….” They exchanged quick glances at the new information. Adam had clearly taken the time to do a little more research than they had.

         “How’d you know?” Matt piped up. Adam’s eyes shot to him.

         “You covered your tracks really well, Holt. Except you forgot recent searches autofill.” Matt threw a hand over his face.

         “Oh, that’s so obvious…” he muttered, mortified at his simple mistake.

         “Fine,” Shiro replied, sharper than he meant. It was too late to take it back though, so he soldiered on, “and if we are? What are you planning on doing about it?”  Adam took a step closer and put his hand between them. Shiro looked from the hand to Adam, confused.

         “Keys,” Adam demanded.

         “What?”

         “I plan on driving,” he explained. Before Shiro could even ask why, a hand went up. “Don’t argue. You aren’t the only one who wants to see Keith graduate, and you aren’t fit to drive for long stretches.”

         “I just piloted a yearlong mission. I think I can handle a road trip,” Shiro assured, but apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Adam was suddenly crowding him, a finger jabbing at his chest.

         “You and I both know that you only had to pilot launches, landings, and short maneuvers. You just finished one of the most intensive parts of your mission, and you are in no condition to drive for hours at a time,” he said in a low, accusatory voice. “Don’t. Bullshit me. Shirogane.”

        The logical part of Shiro’s brain told him this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t let his ex get in the car with him for a road trip when they’d barely even talked since they’d broken up. He probably needed another year, or lifetime, to get over the whole thing. The year in space should have helped, but it hadn’t. It just filled him with things he wanted to tell Adam and couldn’t. He already felt ready to burst just looking at him.

        Shiro realized he was handing over the keys before he had time to process through all of these feelings. Adam took them and walked around to the driver’s side. He was left there still dumbstruck.

         “Oh, shit,” Matt half whispered. “You are so whipped.” Matt was downright giggling. The trunk popped open and Matt tossed his bag in before he slid into the back seat.

        Shiro paused at the trunk, looking down at his left hand. It was clenched tight on the strap of his bag. It had been since they’d gotten to the garage, hiding the spasms best he could and keeping Matt to his left to cover what he couldn’t. He threw the bag off his shoulder and pressed the device on his wrist to calm the pain shooting through his arm.

        He was angry because Adam was right. He was in no condition to drive.

        He left his hiding place behind the trunk, slamming it shut harder than necessary. He dropped himself into the passenger seat. Adam glanced up and down him before turning his head sharply forward.

         “We ready?” he asked.

         “Yep!” Matt shouted from the back seat. Shiro had a passing thought that he probably should have been back there instead of Matt.

         “Where are we going?” Adam asked, starting the hover car, it lifted smoothly off the ground.

         “Start west, I’ll let you know when to turn,” Matt replied, looking down at his phone.

        Adam had just pulled out, but he paused, leaning around to look questioningly at Matt. He was just a little too much in Shiro’s space, making it impossible not to stare at his perfectly skeptically arched eyebrow. He had really nice eyebrows, Shiro had always liked them…

        Shiro forced himself to physically turn and look out the window. This was a horrible, horrible idea. He wasn’t sure why he was letting it happen.

        “West it is,” Adam agreed turning back around, and they were off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : How did Team Runaway got out of the Garrison? Road trip AU finally gets to the Road Trip!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith tries to sneak out of the Garrison without being found out, Lance tries to punch Keith in the face, Hunk just wants some piece and quiet. No one gets what they want, but Pidge _does_ get to touch the forbidden machine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys are thinking on this AU! I thrive on feedback

* * *

_Hey Keith_

_I know this isn’t much of a gift, but you helped me figure out how to get this piece of junk running, so I made sure you can check it out when I'm not around if you want. You could also, you know... fix it while I’m gone. Hopefully all the wheels stay on this time!_  
_Stay out of trouble, haha! (no but really I can't help you from space buddy)_

_-SHIRO_

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 4**

 

        Keith wouldn’t know what to do with 8 full hours of sleep on a good day, and the past week, full of late night secret trainings, had kept him functioning on even less than usual. So, when he woke up at 4:37 am Friday morning, he wasn’t surprised. He threw his legs off his bed, knowing better than to fight the anxiety that kept him from sleeping in.

        He got up and stretched in the dark. His room whirled with the quiet sound of the little machine in the corner he always left on and the printer chugging away. The machine beeped at him. It _kept_ beeping at him, in rapid fire bursts.

        Keith’s mind clicked fully awake as he realized what the beeping meant. He leapt over the pile of dirty laundry and slid on the stack of folders. He skittered and flung himself forward, catching the shelf to keep himself upright. He was face to face with the little device, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark but its blinking red light.

        He spun around to turn on a light then ran back to the printer, looking at the readings coming out anxiously. It wasn’t that his machine never beeped at him. It beeped regularly in fact, but regularly meant once every few hours, or sometimes two together. It hadn’t beeped at him this much since the beginning of February.

        He started cross referencing the readings currently printing with old data he’d worked out. He wanted to get it right this time. He wanted to be able to put an X on a map. His heart started racing in his chest, time barreling down on him faster than usual, as every minute felt precious. He knew that the signal would be gone in a day or two, if history was any indication.

        This time though… this time he’d get answers.

 

        The sun was bleeding through his shades before he finally registered how long he’d been working. It was almost 10am, and he felt like he had a solid heading to go on. Well, it was good enough. He was afraid of wasting any more time fussing over details now. He grabbed a marker and made three careful dots on a map, then a wide circle connecting them.

        He’d missed his morning class. Iverson would be pissed, but that didn’t feel important. Nothing felt as important as getting to that circle. He hastily folded up the map and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He threw the newest print outs into the trunk at the foot of his bed and slammed it shut. He thought for a moment, then opened the trunk back up and shuffled them before throwing the lid back down. Better safe than sorry.

        He stuffed his notebook, a taped, stapled, and glued together monstrosity, into his bag as well as a (possibly) clean pair of extra clothes and whatever other few supplies he happened to see on the way out of his room. He snagged his red bandana as well. It’d been a dry spring and he’d be on his hoverbike, so anything to keep a little dust off his face would help.

        He considered actually just checking himself out of the base. He was 18 after all, they wouldn’t detain him. It would just go on his disciplinary records that he was cutting out of class. He didn’t think he had the mental capacity to make up a convincing lie for why he _had_ to go right then and couldn’t wait a day for the legitimate freedom of spring break. Sneaking out would get him into trouble, but that was future Keith’s problem.

        He made it safely to the garage, but then there was the sound of scuffling feet behind him and shouting. He spun around, cursing his luck that security was fifteen minutes late on their patrols, but instead found himself in a very different confrontation than he’d expected.

 

 

        Lance hadn’t woken up Friday morning thinking about spring break. His mind was on rushing to class with plans that included: ‘sticking it to the man’ and being _very_ smug in front of his classmates. His thoughts had turned to murder by mid-morning, when his rival turned teammate hadn’t shown up and was upgraded to full blown arch nemesis.

 

         “HEY! KOGANE.”

        Lance ignored the hissed pleas from Hunk to be quieter, and really all the suggestions that had been coming from him since he started his quest to punch Keith.

        Keith turned around, wearing a bright red bandana over his mouth like some sort of wild-west bandit. Lance hated that it kind of looked cool on him, but that was just like throwing a match into a campfire, it didn’t matter anymore, he was already at peek pissed off.

         “What are you doing here?” Keith had the gall to ask.

         “I’m here to kick your ass, that’s what I’m doing here. Square up!” Lance said, coming to a sharp stop a few feet in front of him and pulling up his fists. He’d never actually been in a proper fist fight before, but he’d had enough older cousins pick on him and spats with siblings. He’d figure his way through it.

        Keith didn’t pull up his fists, instead he pulled down his bandana. “How did you guys even find me?” he asked as Holt and Hunk caught up.

         “I’m a genius, you knew that.” Holt snapped. Keith’s eyes widened, shocked to find Holt mad, as if she hadn’t been ditched too.

         “I said, square up.” Lance pushed into Keith’s space when he was ignored.

         “Come oooooon. It’s not worth it!” Hunk cried from a few steps back.

         “I’m… not going to fight you…” Keith said haltingly.

         “Oh yes you are, you no good, ditching son of a-,” Lance snarled cutting himself off in anger.

         “Oh....” Realization only then seemed to dawn on Keith’s face. “Look, I have to go. We can fight later,” he offered. He turned away without a thought, like Lance wasn't even a threat. He wasn’t even worth his time.

         “You’re not going anywhere!” Lance’s hand shot out to his shoulder, yanking him.

        Keith spun, dropped his little duffle bag and threw Lance’s hand off his shoulder in a sharp, smooth gesture. The movement was disturbingly well practiced and Lance felt his prospects for the fight suddenly plummet. Keith’s hands finally came up, though, at least acknowledging the challenge. Keith’s eyes darted between the three cadets that had tracked him down.

         “Look.” His voice was tense and sharp. His hands slowly turned, palms out, raising them instead in surrender. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t understand, but this is something I have to do. If I don’t go now…” he paused, not seeming to have the right words. He looked lost. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

        Lance reluctantly lowered his fists. He never imagined he’d get an actual apology. It wasn’t satisfying, not in the way that punching Keith would have been. He wanted to _hit_ something, _blame_ someone. Forgiveness didn’t help him vent his frustration. He considered still hitting him, but it wouldn’t work if Keith wasn’t angry too, or at least being pompous.

         “If I don’t go now, I might miss it,” Keith said.

         “Miss what?” Lance asked, his tone still sharp even if he wasn’t planning on decking the guy anymore. Keith hesitated.

         “Miss what?” Holt pressed, stepping in. Hunk came closer too now that it didn’t look like a fight. Keith’s eyes flitted from one to the next and his face flashed through several stages of internal debate before he spoke.

         “There’s a signal,” he started. “Katie, you’ve asked about that machine I won’t let you touch in my room.” Holt lit up. “Well, it’s tracking something, and it blew up this morning, which hasn’t happened in months. Last time I went after it I missed it.” He looked very serious.

         “What sort of signal?” Holt and Hunk asked at the same time, both leaning in for the juicy details.

         “It’s…” Keith made a regretful face. “I don’t really have time to explain.”

         “Why is it so important?” Lance was standing back, arms crossed. He wasn’t sold by all this signal crap. Keith looked up at him, confused. “Why is it so important you’d ditch after putting all our asses on the line last week?”

        Keith cringed a little, his eyes darting to the side, “It’s not like Commander Iverson would have kicked you out,” he said.

         “What?! That is _exactly_ how it was like!” Lance roared back.

         “Did you get kicked out?” Keith asked.

         “Well… no, but-” Lance floundered.

         “He wouldn’t kick you out for _me_ ditching class. He’d kick us both out if I’d shown up and gotten in a fight because I had somewhere else to be,” he insisted.

         “Fine. Whatever. But still what’s so important!” Lance came back to his original question.

         “It’s just important,” he said.

         “That’s not an answer.” Lance wasn’t going to let this go. He wasn’t letting Keith throw some mysterious crap his way and then run off. He _deserved_ an answer. The whole team did.

         “I…” Keith didn’t seem to know where to start, various emotions flitting across his face before he cracked. “My dad. He knew _something_. He never got the chance to tell me-I don’t know, maybe he never would have, but I think it has something to do with this signal I’ve been picking up and… I have to know what it is and why things are like this-why _I’m_ like this.” He seemed so honestly frustrated that the rest of them exchange glances.

         “You’re dad?” Holt said.

         “Why you’re like what?” Hunk asked, softer than the other two.

         “I don’t have _time_ ,” Keith muttered, looking away. He looked embarrassed by the confused half confession.

         “We’re a team, Keith. You don’t abandon your team,” Lance said, sharply. Keith’s head shot up, guilt springing onto his face. “Not when you have a crazy road trip planned over spring break!” Lance looked to the other two cadets. Holt had clearly decided ages ago she was coming, and Hunk sighed and shrugged, resigned to being dragged along.

        Keith stared. “What?”

        He didn’t have time to process the words before Hunk was smacking him on the back. “Even you gotta know you need a co-pilot by now.”

         “And you thought you could just run off and start investigating mysterious energy signals without me?” Holt scoffed.

         “Guys, I have to leave _now_ ,” Keith reminded.

         “Yeah, feels like I’m coming down with something,” Lance said, suddenly coughing dramatically. “Probably spread it to my roommate. Looks like we’re going to miss our afternoon classes.” Lance threw on a grin.

         “You just sneezed on everything. I didn’t have a chance,” Hunk agreed.

         “Cough. Hack,” Holt spoke, without any of Lance’s drama. Keith stared around at the three of them, bewildered.

         “You’re not all going to fit on my hover bike… I mean, maybe we could squeeze on but...” He paused to seriously consider this, then shook his head. “No. Not for this long of a trip.”

         “Well, you’re not leaving without us so you better figure something out,” Holt said.

         “Uh… well I do have _one_ other option,” Keith said reluctantly.

         “Great! You sort that out. Hunk and I will grab our bags!” Lance announced.

         “Be back ASAP,” Holt shouted after them before turning back to Keith. “So, where are we going? Do I have time to see that machine?”

 

         “You guys really don’t have to do this,” Keith offered after things had quieted down and it was just him and Pidge. “I mean, I might get kicked out, but at least then the new guy could get you on his team, like he wanted,” he tagged on with a half laugh.

        Pidge’s face turned stony. “So. You’re just giving me away.”

         “No!” Keith replied quickly, startled. “I’m just saying if you were going to be on anyone’s team it might as well be his.”

         “Why his?” she asked, trying to decipher Keith’s logic.

         “Because everyone else would bore you to death!” he replied, earnestly. “Imagine being the tech for Sharma,” he made a face which Pidge instantly mirrored. Sharma was a great pilot, almost as good as Keith. She never crashed, but more importantly, she never tried anything stupid.

         “Fine…” Pidge continued imagining the perfectly smooth flights, a life without alarm bells ringing in her ears and having to leap around the cabin dangerously. Awful. “But! I’m still pissed you tried to ditch me.”

         “I didn’t try to ditch you. This just has nothing to do with you,” he explained.

         “Wrong!” Pidge chimed, “Because everything has everything to do with me! You should know that by now.” Keith laughed for real this time. “Plus, I got you on camera sneaking out. So you clearly need help,” she added.

         “You do? Where?” He frowned.

         “North truck entrance of the West Garage.”

         “Damn…” He looked disappointed in himself.

         “And that means they have it too. Which means if you want someone to do a patch job on that history you’re going to need to give me an hour,” she said.

         “You only need an hour to hack into the Garrison’s surveillance system?” he asked, looking legitimately impressed, which was an insult, really.

         “What do you take me for? It’ll only take me 15 minutes to do that. The other 45 are so I can grab some extra socks and set up the system to check us out tomorrow morning. Oh! And I’m touching that machine I’m not allowed to touch!”

        He looked like he would object for a moment, but then shrugged. “Okay, but let’s hurry.”

        Keith spent the next hour explaining what he could of the mysterious signal to Pidge as she tore apart the machine in his room. He explained how the signal appeared periodically, but never quite the same twice. He had theories about some sort of distortion, but he couldn’t say without an original to compare to. He’d been tracking it for years, and it had appeared all over the southwest, and possibly beyond but that was outside his detection range.

        On their way back to the garages they started discussing their different techniques for sneaking around the Garrison security system. Keith fell into more old school espionage tactics, learning guard rotations and sneaking through unmonitored passageways. Pidge on the other hand was tech based. She had learned the security system inside and out before even arriving at the Garrison, though this had come with a few early blunders.

         “Is that why they started changing the keypad codes regularly?” Keith asked suddenly.

         “Oh… yeah maybe” Pidge admitted, a little sheepish. “Sorry.”

         “Nah, just means we have to coordinate better in the future” Keith said, casually waving off the apology. Pidge felt her heart warm a little at that. It meant he didn’t plan to ditch her again.

        Lance and Hunk returned soon, jogging over excitedly. Lance’s bag was bulging at the seams and Keith stared at it like he was trying to work out a puzzle. In his defense, Pidge and he both had significantly smaller bags and had fit all their various tech, research notes, and gadgets in them as well.

         “Okay!” Lance said, clapping his hands together, “This better be worth your ditching us, or I’m gonna be pissed.”  Despite the warning, he was wearing a wide, breathless smile. Keith opened his mouth to argue but Pidge was having none of that.

         “You’re the one who wanted us on your team. You literally asked for this,” she reminded.

         “What have I gotten myself into…” he muttered.

         “I guess we’ll find out!” she said perkily. “Lead the way. I’ll take care of the rest of the security as we leave.”

 

 

        The vehicle Keith led them to had a few glaring issues…

        First, it had wheels. This in and of itself didn't condemn a vehicle, but it was certainly a strike against it, particularly in comparison to Keith’s cool, sleek, red hoverbike. Which led to the second problem, it was just _not_ cool looking. It was a dingy, dust covered white, with flaked chrome rims on ancient wheels and a crack cutting across the bottom corner of the windshield. If it had been any smaller, it certainly wouldn’t have been able to fit 4 doors on it. It had the proportions of a vehicle you’d see in a museum, but the quality of what you’d find in a junkyard.

         “How will we impress the babes?” Lance asked bleakly, dropping his bag off his shoulder with a soft thud. He’d expected Keith to come up with something better.

         “The… truck stop babes?” Holt asked incredulously.

         “ _Yes_ , the _truck stop babes_ ,” Lance snipped back. “You’re hoverbike looks so much cooler…”

         “Well, if we weren’t bringing half the damn Garrison, maybe we coulda taken it,” Keith replied. He squatted down and felt around under the car for a moment before coming back with a key. An actual key. Just a piece of metal. That was it.

         “How old is this thing?” Lance muttered, astonished. Keith elected to ignore him, going to physically unlock the car and leaning in.

         “I think it’s neat,” Hunk replied, smiling.

        There was a clinking sound. “Popped the trunk,” he called. Holt hopped over to throw the trunk open. And failed.

         “Uh… no you didn’t,” she called back.

         “Yeah I did. Pull harder!” Keith shouted from inside the car.

        Holt frown but shifted her grip and shoved the trunk door up. She grunted but managed to pull it open a bit. The second she let go, though, it crashed back down loudly.

         “Shit!” she yelped, jumping away and clutching her fingers at the very thought of them having been caught in there. There was a pause and then the loud click again. This time Keith pulled himself out of the car and walked over. With a hard yank and then a shove, he forced the trunk open.

         “Where there not hydraulic lifts back then?” Hunk asked.

         “Nah, there were. These ones just don’t work,” Keith replied.

         “Can I… maybe fix that before we go?” he asked.

         “No time,” Keith replied, throwing his bag in carelessly. Hunk placed his in more gingerly, afraid it would fall on him.

        Once they had the trunk packed, they started to pile into the car. Holt shoved past Lance as he tried to get into the back seat with Hunk.

         “Nope! Hunk and me are in the back together because we gotta put _this_ together!” she announced, hefting up the machine innards she’d scavenged from Keith’s room.

         “Oo!” Hunk cooed. The tiny car creaked as he shoved himself into the back seat, excited to start tinkering before he even knew what they were making.

         “What? And I have to sit up here alone with _Keith_?” Lance griped.

         “You go ahead and sit back there with them, if you want,” Keith replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. Lance made a face at the back of Keith’s head.

         “Fine, but _I_ get to choose the music,” he announced, getting in. He ignored the ‘whatever’ from Keith and started crafting the perfect road trip playlist, smiling to himself.

        The car started up like it was in pain. Lance didn’t know if that was just how cars were back in the olden days or if this one was dying. Hunk, though, seemed worried.

         “Can I just take a quick look at the engine before we--” Hunk started from the back seat. He was met with a chorus of ‘no’s.

 

         “Okay!”  Lance shouted, once they had made it out of the base effortlessly, kudos to Holt for whatever magic she pulled off there. They were a bunch of teenagers, it was spring break, and his playlist was _perfection_. “How do I connect?” he asked.

         “Connect to what?” Keith replied.

         “To the car?” he said, rolling his eyes.

         “Connect what to the car?” Keith was clearly trying to be difficult.

         “The music! How do I connect to this thing? Oh god is there a cord? I don’t have a port,” he said frowning. “But there’ll be an adapter, so…”

         “There’s nothing to connect to,” Keith interrupted.

         “What?” Lance felt his heart fall.

         “You can put in CDs,” he offered.

         “What?!” Lance repeated louder.

         “I think I have some stuff from Shiro. He’s into retro stuff,” he muttered reaching into a pocket on the side of the door. He came back up with a booklet full of disks.

         “You’re kidding…” Lance replied, a horror sinking into him at the idea of starting off this road trip without proper music. He stared down at the disks with campy logos that looked like they were from the turn of the millennia. Who even was ‘Linkin Park’? This was horrible.

         “There’s the radio,” Keith offered.

        Lance groaned, tossing aside the booklet. He started pressing buttons desperately until he turned the radio on. It buzzed with static and it took him a minute to find the right nobs. He had to actually tune the radio, like he was in some sort of period piece drama. The tiny digital readout barely gave him any information too, so he had to just search randomly through the static for something- _anything_ -to remind him he was in the current century.

        Keith was apparently determined to keep them in the dark ages, though.

         “Here,” he said, pulling a large folded up piece of paper that had been bulging out of his jacket pocket. “The copilot navigates.”

         “Uh… okay?” Lance said, confused what the piece of paper had to do with it until he started unfolding, then _kept_ unfolding. Once he had it spread over the dash he finally realized it was a map. Keith actually wanted them to navigate by a paper map, like they were going on a treasure hunt. But instead of an X there was a big red circle in sharpie.

         “You’re joking.” But Keith just glanced over at him, unblinking, then back to the road. “You’re not joking…. This is ridiculous. I’m using my phone.”

         “Just use the map.”

         “It’s HUGE.” Lance waved the giant piece of paper around to make is point.

         “Look, if you don’t know how to read a map I’ll just-,” Keith started to reach for the map and Lance yanked it away.

         “I can read a map fine!” he snipped.

         “Well!” Keith shouted then paused. “Good,” he finished, not seeming to know what else to say.

        Pidge and Hunk rolled their eyes and continued their tinkering from the back seat. They were too busy turning the device from Keith’s room into a much more accurate, and portable version to care about bickering in the front seat.

 

        The next problem with the car was revealed about an hour and a half into the trip when Keith said they needed to fuel up. The little car had a little tank, which wouldn’t have been a problem, except it was no easy feat to fill it.

         “Do you not know how to work a pump?” Lance asked derisively as he returned from the QuickSnacks with an arm full of provisions.

        Keith frowned at him as the gas glugged away for a second, then a harsh click sounded, and the handle went slack. He waited a few seconds, saying, “This is just how it fills up.” He pulled the handle again and the gas glugged in for a few seconds before it clicked again.

         “That means it’s full, Keith,” Lance said, rolling his eyes.

         “I’ve only put in a gallon,” he replied.

         “Nuh-uh,” Lance said, leaning over. He’d seen the gauge at E when they rolled into the station, but the pump read 1.039 gallons. “Then… you’re doing it wrong,” he insisted. He reached for the pump. Keith stepped aside, throwing his hands into the air.

         “Go ahead, work your magic,” Keith offered.

        Lance tried, but his magic failed him. He pulled the handle and it let about a quarter gallon into the tank before clicking off. He tried to pull it again and it immediately clicked off again. “It’s full. Your gauge must be messed up,” he muttered.

         “I’m not running out of gas just because you don’t believe I have to fill up the tank a half gallon at a time,” Keith said, taking the pump back, waiting a few seconds more before adding another half gallon.

         “What the hell… how will you know it’s full?” he asked.

         “It’ll take about 9 and a half gallons to get it to full from where it was,” he replied, sounding sure. The handle clicked again. 1.875 gallons. Keith waited.

         “This is going to take forever,” Lance said. Keith shrugged. “Hunk!” he flung the door open and Hunk reluctantly moved away from his work with Pidge.

         “What?” he asked. Keith filled up another half gallon, it clicked off. Keith waited.

         “The car only fills up half a gallon at a time,” Lance explained.

         “Huh?”

         “Half a gallon, then it clicks off. Then he has to wait like _forever_ and do it again,” he informed.

         “Is… the floater sticking? Or is something clogging the-” Hunk started theorizing.

         “Dunno,” Keith interrupted. He added another half gallon.

         “I could take a loo-,” Hunk started again.

         “Nah,” Keith replied.

         “Okay, come on,” Hunk whined.

         “It’s fine,” Keith said.

         “I’m sure I can fix it. How long has this car just been sitting around? You know you have to drive these old cars from time to time! Did you at least rotate the tires? Let me at least do that,” Hunk started.

         “I don’t have a jack or anything anyway. It’ll be fine.” Keith filled up another half gallon.

         “What if we need to replace one of the tires with the spare?” Hunk asked.

         “Well, seeing as how I don’t have a spare, I don’t think it’ll come up,” he replied.

         “We are driving through the _desert_. What happens if a tire goes out?” Keith just shrugged.

         “This would all be really hilarious,” Lance said, “if I didn’t have to worry about this piece of junk breaking down in the middle of nowhere.” He was still watching, entranced by the slow progress of the pump. Keith made it through another half gallon, “Okay, it’s still pretty funny. How do you not go insane? You’re… not even at 5 gallons. Oh my god, you’re only like halfway.” He started laughing.

        Pidge popped out on the other side.

         “I’ve done all I can on this thing! It’s all you now,” she called to Hunk, trotting around the car. “I’m taking shotgun,” she added.

         “Yeah, have fun with the treasure map,” Lance muttered, finally looking away from the pump. He hopped into the back seat and started doling out snacks and drinks.

 

        They drove with the windows down, despite their speed, the dust, and the heat. This was because of yet another problem with the car. While the AC worked, it would only kick on at the highest setting. So, rather than be blasted in the face, they opted for rolling down all of the windows and living the full road trip experience.

        As a result, Pidge’s hair was at the mercy of the wind. She tried stealing Hunk’s extra headband, but it didn’t seem to matter. She had too much hair and there were too many windows open, letting the air attack from all angles. She looked around at all the short hair enviously as she pulled her own out of her mouth for the nth time.

        "Okay,” she said decisively. “We're doing this Mulan style. Keith, give me your knife."

        "Okay," Keith said, without even a moment’s hesitation. He reached over and flicked the glove box open. Lance and Hunk paused their conversation at the word ‘knife’ and looked up just in time to see Keith, while driving, pull out what would probably more qualify as a dagger than anything else. Its handle was wrapped in dingy strips of cloth, but the blade glinted with a dangerous, polished sharpness.

         “What the hell, Keith!” Lance shouted. Hunk could only manage a concerned, choked noise.

         “What?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and looking honestly confused. He offered the hilt to Pidge. She took it and stuck it between her thighs briefly as she collected her hair up.

        She ignored the sputtering horror of the back seat, urging her to put it away. When she was satisfied with the loose ponytail she’d gathered, she transferred all her hair to one hand and picked up the knife. There was a satisfying lack of resistance as she pulled the dagger through the hair under her fist.

        "Wow! That cut that like butter!" she said, delighted as she looked at the dagger with a deeper appreciation of Keith’s knife fetish.

        Keith smiled lightly to himself, "I know..."

         “It just sliced my hair like nothing!” she praised.

         “Yeah!” Hunk cried, “So think what it can do to the rest of you!”

         “Put that thing away!” Lance tagged on.

         “At least pull over!” Hunk insisted.

         “Fine, but someone has to give me bangs when we stop for gas,” she said, fiddling with the hair the fell into her face still.

         “I will give you whatever haircut you want! Just put that down,” Lance promised.

         “Okay, okay, yeesh,” Pidge said, tossing the weapon back into the glove box. She looked down at the long flowing locks she still held. “Whelp,” she said, unbuckling and turning to lean out the window. A whole new host of worried cries followed her as the wind thumped her back, but she wanted to get a distance outside the car.

         “Be free,” she said before releasing her handful of hair to the wild.

         “Pidge!” the back seat cried.

         “Well, I wasn’t going to hold on to it for the next 5 hours,” she said, settling back into her seat. The conversation shifted to how long it would take the hair to degrade in nature and the finer points of littering. Pidge was too busy enjoying how wonderfully free her head suddenly felt.

 

        Eventually Keith relinquished the driver’s seat. After a few horrified ‘is it supposed to sound like that?!’s and ‘does the steering wheel always vibrate this much?’s and a ‘what?! No cruise control?’, Lance had taken over on their way to the red circle on the map. The problem was, Keith was a horrible copilot, or at least a horrible DJ. He kept trying to put the old CDs in and Lance point blank refused to listen to oldies while driving.

         “Favorite ice cream?” he blurted, looking to distract Keith and himself.

        Keith was startled and put the booklet aside to think. “Uhhhh… Okay-”

         “Can’t be vanilla,” Lance tagged on.

        Keith’s mouth closed with a click, and the back seat chuckled, “… Mint chip,” he decided eventually.

         “Acceptable.” He nodded. “Holt?”

         “Ginger,” she replied without hesitation.

         “Ginger?” he locked eyes with her through the rearview mirror for a long second. “Acceptable,” he finally conceded, “but you’re gonna have to get me some of that now.”

         “You don’t crash us into a ditch on your night shift and we have a deal,” She replied. He grinned at that.

         “A’right. Hunk?” he asked.

         “Vanilla,” Hunk said without hesitation.

         “Fair enough,” Lance agreed.

         “Hey!” Keith cut in suddenly. “How come he gets to just say vanilla and I couldn’t?”

         “Because he’s Hunk,” Lance replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

         “Duh Keith,” Holt said, holding back snickers.

         “Yeah, duh Keith,” Hunk echoed, deadpan. Holt snorted and then gave up and started laughing. Lance laughed too, watching Keith trying to be upset about it, but he couldn’t hold out. He sighed.

         “Yeah, duh me,” he agreed.

         “Someone come up with another question!” Lance demanded.

         “How about just straight up favorite food?” Hunk offered.

         “That’s easy,” Lance said, “Anything my mama cooks. Oh! Or Hunk. You are magic in the kitchen,” he crooned over his shoulder to his best friend. Hunk put his hand over his heart, touched.

         “God, why don’t you just get married already?” Holt asked, making a face.

         “Seriously,” Keith muttered in agreement.

         “You don’t think I’ve tried?” Lance cried out, dramatically flailing an arm around the car. “But he just says he wants a ‘wife’ and ‘kids’!” He took his hands off the wheel to do dramatic air quotes.

         “What about adopting?” Holt offered, helpfully.

         “Yeah Hunk!” Lance shouted, “What about adoption?”

         “Let’s be honest…” Hunk said calmly from the back, “You know you want someone prettier than me.”

         “Keith, take the wheel,” Lance ordered. Keith did so without question, reaching over to hold the wheel steady. Lance leaned awkwardly back between the seats to face Hunk. Hunk looked like he was about the start shouting about how unsafe this was, but Lance clamped hands on either side of his face effectively silencing him. “There is nothing in this world more beautiful than you…” he paused seriously, “and your breaded pork cutlets.”

        They held eye contact for a long moment before Hunk started howling. “Okay! You win!”

         “Say it!” Lance demanded.

         “My breaded pork cutlets are beautiful! Please just drive!” he begged.

         “Thank you,” Lance said, turning around and taking the wheel back from Keith. Holt was cackling, and even Keith was laughing under his breath.

         “Right, what were we talking about… Ah! Favorite foods. Who’s next?” Lance asked.

         “No more energy drinks for Lance, alright guys?” Holt said.

         “Boooo,” Lance instantly called, even if she was probably right.

        They went on like that, keeping the car lively until it started getting late enough that people started drifting off. They set up shifts for driving and sleeping, making sure there was always a copilot up to keep an eye on the driver. Quiet conversations and soft music took over for the rest of the night.

 

        By the time they arrived in the big red circle on the map, they had driven through the night and rotated through drivers again. Now that they were _in_ the circle, the objective changed. They had to find the source, and that was proving to be a harder task than any of them had anticipated.

        Keith had been relieved there was a signal to follow at all when they’d arrived. The problem was, the closer they got, the more confused the readings were. No two readings came out exactly the same, nor did they seem to come from the same place. Every time it felt like they were narrowing in on the source, suddenly it was on the other side of the circle. Then there’d be a blip a few thousand miles north, then east.

        The day had started rowdy and excited, but as evening came closer, and the readings grew further and further apart, a somber mood fell over the car. Really, it was Keith whose mood fell, but it pulled the rest of the car with it. They hadn’t realized how lively he’d been until it wasn’t there anymore, and a heavy silence emanated from him.

        A full hour past without the slightest hint of the signal.

        Keith pulled over suddenly, veering them onto the shoulder. He stomped on the break and shoved the gear stick into park with far more force than was necessary. He didn’t say anything right away, and the rest of the car was silenced by the sheer tension sparking off him. He squeezed the steering wheel, then shook it violently for two seconds. The poor old car creaked under his effort. Then he stilled.

         “We missed it. _I_ missed it. Again,” he muttered.

         “We can keep looking,” Hunk offered, hesitantly.

         “Where?” Keith asked sharply, staring forward. It was suddenly very clear that the rest of the car had underestimated how important this was to Keith. None of them knew what to do with his intensity now. They exchanged worried glances as he flexed his hands angrily on the steering wheel.

         “We’ll widen the range!” Pidge piped up, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She looked to the others to back her up.

         “Yeah!” Hunk and Lance said together.

         “It’ll be super easy! Right Hunk?” Lance asked.

         “We just need a few things. Pidge and I can look at the signal patterns and see if we can figure anything out from those,” he agreed.

                 “Yeah!” she said, whipping out her phone, “and I’ll find us a hardware store to get supplies to beef up this baby,” she said patting the machine and looking up the nearest place to find some spare parts and tools.

        Keith’s eyes fluttered under the onslaught of positivity. He clearly had no idea what to do with it in his current mood.

         “We got this!” Pidge said, flashing a confident grin at him.

         “Uh… Thanks…” he managed, his shoulders relaxing. He slowly let go of his death grip on the steering wheel.

         “Yeah, we’re not turning back now without answers,” Lance said. At that Keith actually smiled.

         “Right,” he agreed, nodding sharply. “Right! Let’s find somewhere to get something to eat and see what we can figure out.” He pulled the car back into the street, calmer than he’d pulled it off.

 

        They found an abandoned parking lot to settle into as the sun faded and the lights flickered on around them. They had stopped by the little, local hardware store for supplies and then picked up a couple taco twelve packs. The device was out on the trunk giving Pidge and Hunk room to work on their upgrades.

        Keith climbed on top of the car to watch the reconstruction. He was curious but knew by now he’d just be in the way if he tried to butt between those two and their work. Lance had decided he needed to fix the cupholder problem. They had been added to the ever growing list of 'reasons why this car is bullshit’.

         “Apparently, no one needed their cups to stay upright in the olden days,” Lance griped, “and the back seat didn’t need to drink at all!” Only the cupholders on the doors were determined any more useful than putting a drink on the floor and hoping for the best, but if anything larger than a small was put into them the cup had to be smashed in and was in danger of leaking onto the seat. He split his time between doctoring up tacos on request, with sauce mixes and chip crumbles on top, and constructing a snack/drink station out of a cooler, a cardboard drink holder, the bags from the ice, a rubber band, and a few bobby pins. This was a task that many years of crafting secret hideouts and blanket forts had perfectly trained him for.

        Keith helped where he could but realized he didn’t have much to do. The others had everything covered, and they were working tirelessly to achieve Keith’s goal. They didn’t have any real reason to, except knowing it was important to him. They did it while shouting and laughing with each other. Keith felt oddly at peace just sitting in the middle of it all… with his team.

        They worked late into the evening.

        When everything that could be done was done, they decided to all call it a night. All four of the cadets crawled into the car to curl up where they could. In the morning, they’d figure out where to go next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : So it's a.... bad idea to trap yourself in a car with your ex for days on end??? Whaaat???
> 
> (I would like to note that any and all strange car maladies I describe in this fic are based on my personal shitty car experiences. I've had... a lot of really cheap shitty cars.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Controversial playlists and early morning sunrises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! That was an unintended hiatus @____@ yikes! Sorry about that. I was in a bit of a rut... since November. But I'm excited to get back to posting! So here we go!!!
> 
> Updated the shipping tags. After rereading of some of the scenes I've written for the next few chapters I realized I just had to commit to what was happening naturally. hahaha
> 
>  
> 
> You all ready for some nostalgia? What road trip would be complete without some arguments over music???  
> (click the lyrics for links to the songs)

* * *

 

        ** _Log date(Local): 10.23.20XX_**

_It's too fragile, too small. I can barely breathe for fear of breaking it._

 

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 5**  

**Team Responsibility**          

 

         “Shit,” Matt said, unceremoniously cutting through the silence that had built up in the car in just the few minutes it took to get out of the base.

         “What?” Shiro asked, pouncing on the invitation to  _not_  stare at his ex-fiance, or  _talk_  to his ex-fiance, or  _think_  about his ex-fiance, sitting next to him.

         “This can’t be right,” Matt said.

         “Where are they?” he asked.

         “They’re in fucking Wyoming.”

        There was a pause.

         “Why?” “How?” Adam and Shiro blurted at the same time.

         “They must have driven through the night in shifts? There is 4 of them, probably hyped up on energy drinks and teenage rebellion,” Matt muttered as he pulled up directions to send to the car’s navigation.

         “That’s 13 hours away,” Shiro blurted as the directions popped up.

         “Yes, we can all read,” Adam replied in a dull tone, making a sharp u-turn to their new destination. It was unnecessary and Shiro felt a defensive retort rising in him, but he squashed it down. He’d be civil, even if Adam wasn’t going to be.

        He half expected the sharp U-turn to mean Adam was driving right back to the base to drop himself off. He couldn't imagine anyway was dumb enough to go on a multi-day road trip with their ex. Apparently, that was exactly what they were doing, though. Without a word he started them on the GPS guided route.

 

        By half an hour in, the tension in the car was palpable. Matt had tried to make some conversation, but every time he started speaking it was like shouting in space. There was no oxygen in the car, just the thick, angry aura that pulsed out of Adam and the tense one from Shiro, neither of which had said a word, other than to mention where the brights were. That tension displaced any air in the car, leaving no medium for the sound to travel through.

        Shiro was at a loss for what to do. He drummed his fingers nervously and received a sharp glare for it. He opened his mouth to say something, but it died in his throat. There was too much he  _wanted_  to say, all the things that had been nagging at the back of his head for over a year, that it got cluttered up on the way out. None of it was something to start at the beginning of a  _very_  long car ride. He had more sense than that at least.

        So instead he looked at everything but Adam’s face. He looked out the window, at the dash, his shoes, and his phone. He looked at Adam’s hands. He didn’t mean to, but he was running out of other options after his phone died. Adam’s fingers spread confidently over the bottom of the steering wheel. They moved with an uncalled for grace while he was just driving down an empty stretch of highway. Then there was his other hand, poised as if it needed to be ready, even though he was driving an automatic. Instead it just idly wandered over the gear shift. Shiro shouldn’t have been this invested in someone’s hands while they weren’t even doing anything extraordinary. If Adam had been doing deft maneuvers that would have at least made sense. Still, he found himself staring at them. Adam just had nice hands.

        Shiro forced his gaze lout the window. A distraction. He needed a distraction.

         “Music?” Shiro blurted, throwing himself a lifeline. It felt like the first words spoken in a millenia. He’d reinvented the art of speech. It had died shortly after the dawn of civilization and he’d rediscovered it. Adam’s head shot over to him briefly, startled by any sound at all, which was why they needed music. Shiro felt stifled by the growing presence of the silence in the car.

         “Sure.”

        There was a loud sigh of relief from the backseat. Matt was finally able to breathe again.

        Shiro picked up Adam’s phone, since his own’s battery was still at death’s door. He pressed his thumb to the lock pad and pulled up some playlists, looking for a good road tripping one. There was a delayed moment when he and Adam realized that his thumb print was still in the phone, and he’d unlocked it without permission or thought. Neither said anything on the matter.

        He pulled up one of his own playlists called “Classic Jams” and started it on shuffle. The first song came on and he smiled as the guitar burst through the speakers.

 

_[Maybe life is like a ride on a freeway-](https://youtu.be/16Nqn_HBNQY)_

 

         “Not feeling it,” Adam said, imperiously. He frowned, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Shiro would have protested, but driver did have music veto power. That was just how the checks and balances of road trip politics worked. He hit next.

 

_[You sit there in your heartache. Waiting on some beautiful boy to. To save you from your-](https://youtu.be/L-ip02FknUo?t=24)_

 

         “Mmm,” Adam grumbled a negative noise. Shiro sighed. He hit next.

 

_[Cuz everytime we touch I get this feeling-](https://youtu.be/kv_wg1b0QVk?t=31)_

 

        Adam’s voice rose over the fast paced techno that pulsed out of the speakers. “Not that one.” Something itched in the back of Shiro's brain, not wanting to be quite so cooperative, but he still hit next again.

        Only [four notes](https://youtu.be/pInrJ72eeUU) played of the next song before an objection exploded out of Adam.

         “No.” He didn’t look away from the road, just continued to glare adamantly forward. “I am  _not_  listening to all your ancient music.”

         “Excuse you. Black Parade is a classic,” Shiro replied, instantly.

         “I am not doing it--and don’t call turn of the millennia music ‘classic’. It’s an insult to  _actual_  classics.” There was a quiet groan from the back seat, their dreams of music breaking the tension officially ruined.

         “The turn of the millennia was an important time for the reinvention of how music was created and consumed. It was pivotal years for many genres.”

         “If you want to call something ‘Classic’, at least go to the 1960s and 70s when things were actually being revolutionized,” Adam snapped. They’d had this argument before. Of course, it was more light hearted previously. Shiro dug in his heels out of practice more than anything else.

         “It’s about when a genre finds its  _soul_  not when it was thought up,” he protested.

         “Are you saying the Beatles had no soul?” Adam shot back.

        Shiro made a scoffing sound, winning him a sharp glare out of the corner of Adam’s eyes. “What are you 14?” he asked.

         “You unironically listen to Linkin Park!”

         “Well, they were better than the Beatles at least.”

        Shiro watched as Adam’s face went through multiple stages of grief, but decided to revert back up the list to a quiet, seething anger.

         “We are  _not_  listening to this for 13 hours,” he said solidly, after he’d regained his calm. “Seriously Shirogane. Were you  _born_ a grandpa?"

        "What?” Shiro asked, shrugging off the insult. “With refined tastes and a few decades from death?”

        The joke dove straight into the oppressive silence, back with an icy vengeance. Shiro was jolted back to the present situation, giving him mental whiplash. Adam had always been the one to take his morbid humor and run with it. If this had been a couple years ago, Adam would have changed the GPS, pretending to turn them towards the nearest funeral home to “fit him for a coffin". This loss stung him worse than the lack of a 'welcome back' kiss. It wasn't just physical intimacy gone, it felt like the friendship was sealed off, and that was so much worse.

        Shiro cleared his throat, feeling like the weight of this should make him sad, but instead irritation rose up, settling in his chest. As if all they'd done was fuck. Forget that they’d gone through all those years of training together, bonding as pilots, cadets, _friends_. Something sour formed in the pit of his stomach, knowing Adam wouldn’t treat anyone else from their unit like this.

        "Yeah," he answered his own question, his voice tight. His hand went to his own right arm, gripping it in a mindless tense gesture. "That sounds about right. So, as the copilot and DJ-" his voice rose over the beginnings of protest, "As is the time honored tradition of the passenger seat!" Adam stopped arguing at that. "I get to pick the music," he finished. With that, he put on his next song with a petulant tap of his finger.

 

_[I don't want to talk to you anymore](https://youtu.be/jfYe3DM0ixQ)_

_[I'm afraid of what I might say](https://youtu.be/jfYe3DM0ixQ)_

_[I bite my tongue every time you come around](https://youtu.be/jfYe3DM0ixQ)_

_[Cause blood in my mouth beats blood off the ground](https://youtu.be/jfYe3DM0ixQ)_

 

        Shiro watched Adam’s face screw up in a quiet, seething anger, his mouth a thin line, barely holding back words he knew better than to say.  A little flicker of smug satisfaction sparked up in Shiro’s chest to have won his ire so quickly in the argument. It was short lived, though. He knew they couldn’t continue on like this, not stuck in a car together.

        They slowed as they finally found other cars on the highway, traffic bringing them to a crawl.

         “Okay, what music  _should_  we listen to, then?” Shiro conceded as the song finished up. He shouldn’t be antagonizing Adam. He  _was_  helping them, after all. He could have just reported the whole thing to Garrison officials. He should have in fact, but he hadn’t. The little angel on Shiro’s shoulder really hadn’t put up much of a fight originally, but it finally got its act together to guilt Shiro into making some concessions.

        Adam glanced at the stopped traffic, then to his phone, snatching it out of Shiro’s hand and flicking through songs.

         “If we’re going to listen to classics, you might as well listen to  _actual_  classics,” he said, hitting a song and putting the phone back aside.

        A dramatic piano rolled out of the speakers, a strong voice soon followed with soul straight out of the 70s,

 

_[At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side](https://youtu.be/GLHY0Pqeyzw)_

_[But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong](https://youtu.be/GLHY0Pqeyzw)_

_[And I grew strong, And I learned how to get along](https://youtu.be/GLHY0Pqeyzw)_

_[And so you're back](https://youtu.be/GLHY0Pqeyzw)_

_[From outer space](https://youtu.be/GLHY0Pqeyzw)…_

 

        Shiro rolled his eyes so hard he was sure the whole car must had felt it. Sure his last song had been a little petty, but really this was pretty on the nose. Then he he remembered something, and a smile inched its way onto his face. Little angel on his shoulder be damned, he snatched Adam’s phone back.

         “Hold on,” Shiro said, with more glee than he really had any right to feel. He tapped away quickly until the music cut off. [Guitar played familiar notes, echoing what they’d just heard, until a different voice started repeating the words](https://youtu.be/7KJjVMqNIgA?t=14). “I found the better version,” he said with a grin. “Cake did a cover in the 90s,” he explained when Adam looked over.

        Before Adam could say anything, Matt shouted from the back seat, “For the love of all that is good, please just play something from this  _millenia_ ,” he begged.

         “My playlist was mostly from this millenia” Shiro offered, putting on a bright smile.

         “I swear to god, Shirogane,” Adam growled.

         “I’m just going to walk.” Matt stated matter of factly, throwing up his hands. “I’m just going to get out and walk if we can’t even settle on  _music._ And I’m the only one who can find them. So good luck driving aimlessly around Wyoming.”

         “Calm down Matt,” Shiro said.

         “Podcast.” Adam glanced back at Matt, “I know you have some nerd podcasts.”

         “I do!” Matt nearly gasped, gleefully whipping out his phone to pull up the nerdiest series he knew.

        Shiro sighed as he turned and looked out the window. The podcast was a good idea. They could just sit there and listen to it. No need to actually talk. The same nagging voice that had insisted he tease Adam now tugged at that same corner of his mind. It wanted to poke and prod at his ex more, until he was forced to say something,  _anything_ to fill the hole he’d left. Shiro had just thrown a rug over it, to cover it from everyday sight during his time on the mission. The second he’d looked at Adam, though, it was there again, laid bare. He needed a real answer to fill it now that he couldn’t hide it.

        He wanted to just ask him **_why_**.

        Instead he listened to the podcast and kept his eyes fixed on the passing scenery. He didn’t trust himself to look at anything else.

 

        The trio was not completely silent as they drove. Shiro and Adam didn’t speak for the rest of the evening unless it was strictly necessary, but the cold shoulder didn’t extend to Matt. When the younger man took up one of the front seats, there was chatting. It was hard to not to have a conversation with Matt. He started talking at someone as if they wanted to talk to him, and eventually they would realize they did. The skill had made the Holts good travelling companions on the Kerberos mission as much as this one.

 

        It was late when they finally stopped, despite Shiro's protests. They weren’t even halfway to their goal, but it was nearing 2 am. None of them had gotten proper sleep the night before and it’d been a long day even before the surprise road trip.

        They stopped at the next motel they could find. The place didn’t look particularly nice, but they’d all slept in sketchier places. Shiro volunteered to get them a room, trudging off, defeated by the united front of Adam and Matt’s sensibilities. His petulant denial that he didn’t need to sleep seemed silly when his steps were ambling at best as he headed towards the motel's office. it was odd for Matt to see him acting so reckless. He'd spent so much time playing the sensible one during their time in space.

        Matt then he looked to Adam, who was notably not looking at Shiro, like he had spent the whole trip so far avoiding. What he _had_ done, though, was make sure they all were hydrated, fed, and rested. It clicked in Matt’s head. Shiro didn’t feel the need to be the sensible one because Adam was with them. He knew Adam would tell him when to stop, and he’d listen. He knew he could get away with doing the grousing he usually kept to himself because Adam wouldn’t be daunted.

        Shiro didn’t feel the need to put on an act in front of Adam. Well, other than the one where he pretended he had nothing to say to his ex for hours on end. But that was a mutual piece of performance art going on as far as Matt was concerned.

         “Would it really have been the worst thing in the world to listen to some old music?” Matt asked when Shiro was out of earshot. He put on a casual air, leaning against the side of the car as Adam went around to the back and pulled his bag out of the trunk. His posture and expression went rigid at the question.

         “Yes,” he said, simply.

         “Oh, come on,” Matt said with exaggerated goofiness, to try to lighten the mood. “Why?”

         “Like _hell_  I’m just going to sit here and let him play Incubus and Alicia Keys for hours on end,” Adam said with a shocking amount of venom.

         Matt blinked. “Play what?”

         “You know… [‘ _I keep on fallin’, iiiin and out, of love, witha you_](https://youtu.be/9ZSzS4_kHCI)',” he mutter-sang. Matt gave him a clueless look. He trailed off. 

         “Uhh, no. I don’t know that one,” Matt admitted. He resisted laughing as he watched the man try to sing ancient R&B love songs while scowling so intensely.

         “Oh, so he didn’t subject the Kerberos mission to this torture? Just me?” Adam even seemed to have realized how ridiculous this conversation was, because he almost looked like he might smile. He sighed dramatically instead.

         “Heh, I guess so” Matt said, even though he’d certainly heard his share of ‘classic emo bands’ during their mission.

         “Well, I’m not listening to hours and hours of all the songs we listened to while we were dating,” he said resolutely. Matt’s face instantly jumped to one of realization, a long protracted “oohhh” trailing out of him. “Yeah.” Adam agreed sharply.

         “All right, we’ll stick to nerd talk,” he said, nodding. He was on board to keep the podcasts rolling for now. He still wasn’t caught up from the year away, anyway.

         “Thanks,” Adam muttered. It was clear he felt a little more exposed than he’d like to be. Matt could tell he wanted it to look like he was 100% over Takashi Shirogane and no amount of classic pop rock would change that. It wasn’t easy to ignore that much history with all the songs you were romanced with blaring and no escape. Matt could appreciate that, so nerd talk it was.

 

        When Shiro returned he had a keycard in hand and looked halfway to falling over already. It took him two tries to turn the handle in time after unlocking the door.

         “Oh yes, you could have driven on for  _hours_ ,” Adam muttered under his breath. Shiro didn’t even bother to acknowledge the snark.

        They pushed into the little room with two twin beds. “Kiosk said there was only one room available,” he mumbled, dropping his bag in the corner. Matt launched himself onto one of the beds.

         “Oh no, whatever are we going to do,” Matt said dramatically, starfished over the bed. “I’ve paid my dues on the bed sharing thing. I’m just going to let you all know that right now.” He lifted his head enough to look them over. “I kick in my sleep,” he added.

        Matt and Shiro looked at each other for a moment before Adam turned around. “Cot,” he said, simply. He opened the tiny closet in a futile search, knowing it was too small to actually have one in there.

         “It’s too late. No attendants to ask,” Shiro reported, yawning.

         “I’ll just be on the floor then,” Adam volunteered, pulling down an extra blanket from the top shelf. He grimaced slightly as he looked down at said floor, but then straightened his shoulders and laid the blanket out, claiming his spot. He grabbed his bag then and disappeared into the bathroom.

        As soon as Adam had closed the door Shiro tiredly pushed off the wall he’d been using to keep himself upright. He pulled off his pants and shirt, tossing them over towards where he’d dropped his bag. Then he scooped up a pillow from Matt’s bed, despite protests, and tossed it onto the blanket Adam had laid out. He promptly flopped himself down onto the floor.

        Matt watched, amused, as Adam emerged in a pair of pajamas a few minutes later. He nearly stepped on the half naked man already sleeping in his spot. His eyes went wide, then narrowed dangerously. Matt had to keep himself from laughing as Adam stomped over to the bed he’d been forced to take. He threw his extra pillow at Shiro, who pretended not to notice, which was impossible given the velocity it sailed at him with. Still, he waited until the lights were out to roll over and grab it.

 

**Team Runaways**

 

        Lance woke up in a cramped little ball on an uneven surface. He tried to stretch but ran into car upholstery long before he had finished unfolding himself. He grumbled, finally remembering why he was sore and scrunched up. He’d spent the night curled in the passenger seat of a tiny, ancient car, on a kooky adventure, with no idea what they were chasing or why.

        On the plus side, at least he wasn’t stuck in the back with Holt and Hunk. He lifted his head enough to check on the two and was surprised to see that they’d managed to find a way to look relatively comfortable squeezed together in the cramped space. Between Holt being so small and Hunk not minding doubling as a pillow, they’d worked something out.

        He glanced to the side to see how Keith was managing with the steering wheel but found the driver’s side empty. It didn’t take long to figure out where he’d gone. Twisting himself back into a sitting position, he found the older cadet sitting on the hood of the car, looking out at the orange smear warding off the darkness of the evening before. He yawned, wondering how long Keith had been up already.

        Lance kicked open the door, letting his spidery legs unfurl. He sighed contently stretching in a long line, half in and half out of the car, bending backwards over the center console to let his back realign itself. It popped into place with a series of satisfying cracks.

        If Keith had looked over, he’d turned back around by the time Lance had popped his joints into place and gotten out of the car. He stretched his arms back behind him, and then over his head as he walked around to the hood. Leaning back against it, he settled next to where Keith was perched with his heels tucked up under him, arms out over the tops of his knees. He looked small like that, bundled up tightly. It didn’t seem like he should be able to compress so much… Keith-ness into so small a space. His reputation, talent, entire  _being_  was so ever present living at the Garrison, it felt wrong.

        Lance looked at him, then at the sunrise. He hadn’t really seen a lot of sunrises, if he was being completely honest. He wondered if he’d ever stopped to watch one properly. Any time he was awake for one it was while running to school, or with curtains drawn to pretend he wasn’t up at such a god forsaken hour.

        The orange glow felt on the brink of spilling over the distant purply mountains trying to hold it back. The slowly growing light made even the abandoned parking lot soberingly pretty. In front of them was just a little smudge of industry, the road and power lines cutting across the scenery as a last line of defense. Beyond those were misty hills trailing into the sharp shadowed points holding the line against the morning. Lance could almost forget there was a half abandoned strip mall behind them and just think about the stretch of nothing ahead.

         “So-,” Lance said quietly.

         “I’m sorry I didn’t show up.” Keith spoke in a rushed exhale, muffled slightly by his knees, where half his face still hid. Lance was taken aback.

         “Oh… uh, well, it’s fine dude,” Lance said. It was too early to work up his usual spitefulness at the very concept of Keith’s existence. It was too quiet and peaceful to remember they were rivals and that Keith was an asshole. He needed coffee first. Keith still looked too  _small_  to be the ever present entity that hung over the Garrison and threatened his rightful place in the piloting program.

         “No. It was really shitty wasn’t it?” It wasn’t the sort of question that actually needed an answer. Keith sat there, expression half hidden, but his brow was knit up, like he was very seriously working out this thought. “I just really needed to get here,” he said in a quieter voice. “I know you don’t understand.”

         “No, I get it,” Lance replied, leaning back further on the hood. Keith shot him a skeptical look. It was so serious, Lance snorted. “Okay. I don’t understand what you’re so worked up about, but I get that it’s important to you.” He shrugged and pretended he couldn’t tell Keith was staring at him, choosing instead to focus on the sunrise.

         “It is…” Keith admitted slowly, though he didn’t elaborate on  _why,_ of course. His voice was a bit too quiet, too soft.

         “You’re clearly a  _little_  messed up, sure. I mean, who keeps a dagger in their glove box?” Lance tried to kill the sentimentality of the moment.

         “I couldn’t leave it under my pillow-” Keith had barely gotten the words out, before Lance’s head snapped to attention.

         “No.” He stared, somewhere between delighted and horrified. “Tell me you don’t sleep with that thing under your pillow!” He was wide awake now, coffee be damned. Keith looked to him with his usual stoic expression. Delight won out over horror at the sheer ridiculousness. It sounded like a bad rumor.

         “I can’t just leave it out…” he muttered.

         “You put it in a drawer, Keith!” Lance cried, breaking the quiet beauty of the morning. Life bled into the hills with the sun, and laughter bled out from his soul. He could feel the grin taking over his face.  “I couldn’t have  _made up_  a more  _Keith Kogane_  thing to do.” He was laughing. Keith wasn’t, but he wasn’t arguing either. Lance turned to see if he was mad, but found Keith still just staring at him. He’d dropped his legs down, so he could turn properly towards Lance.

        He cleared his throat, calming himself down enough to go on. “So… why do you sleep with a knife under your pillow?” he asked in the most conversational tone he could manage, though laughs still threatened, bubbling up in his throat and straining his voice so it pitched higher.

         “It was my mother’s,” he said. Lance’s eyes fluttered.

         “Your  _mother’s_?”

         “It’s all she left me...”

        Lance’s mind screamed. Of course, he had a tragic backstory. The more logical part of his brain kept him quiet. He hadn’t expected Keith to open up any of the mysteries that were, well, him. So, he restrained himself, waiting to see if anything more would come. Silence filled the parking lot.

         “Did-” Lance cleared his throat, “Uhm, sorry. Did she pass away?”

        Keith shrugged. Lance didn’t know how to take that. Instead of figuring out anything to say he reached over and grabbed his shoulder. If Keith didn’t want to use words, they wouldn’t. Keith tensed for a moment at the contact, his eyes darting to the hand, then Lance. Apparently, his expression said enough, because Keith relaxed, letting the hand pat his shoulder without recourse. Lance almost thought he saw a smile, but Keith was pushing himself off the hood of the car before he was sure.

         “Katie’s up,” he said, moments before the door flung open and Holt stumbled out, gasping.

         “It’s… Hunk---s-so warm… sweated out all hydration…” she announced, dramatically.

         “Heeee’s a furnace.” Lance grinned at her. “You two looked so cute cuddled up. Like a big old bear and it’s lil' baby cub,” he cooed. Holt gave him a glare which was startlingly potent for how early in the morning it was, and how silly her hair looked after sleeping in the cuddly grasps of a space heater.

         “Let’s go,” Keith said abruptly.

         “Not so fast cowboy,” Lance replied, walking back to the car to grab his shoes before heading to the trunk. “I gotta beautify.” He pulled out his overstuffed bag, and from that bag he pulled out a smaller overstuffed bag.

        Keith frowned. “Just do it in the car,” he said, pushing his hair back in frustration. Lance glared at him, because his hair still looked perfect, falling majestically back into his eyes, not looking greasy at all. How  _dare_  he. Lance would have been jealous if it wasn’t a mullet.

         “I need a sink. I’m not breaking out just because you have antsy pants,” Lance replied.

         “Do you have my toothbrush?” Hunk’s voice grumbled from the back seat as he pulled himself out of the car.

         “Course I do,” Lance said. Hunk made an appreciative grunt and got up to follow Lance as he walked back towards the gas station.

        Keith stood, dumbfounded. He shouted a frustrated, “Be quick!”

        Holt, in lieu of joining the morning crew, pulled out a bottle and took a swig of mouthwash and started swooshing it around. She offered it to Keith. Still frowning, he took it.

         “You’re all disguuusting!” Lance sung back over his shoulder, “Greasy disgusting gremlins! They sell toothbrushes at the gas station I bet!”

        Holt spit out the mouthwash right there on the pavement. Lance made a face and headed off with Hunk.

 

        Keith was pouty when Lance took a half hour to return, but it didn’t last long. The new and improved signal tracker was beeping the instant they turned it on, and Keith’s eyes lit up. He leapt to his feet, excitement defying his usual grumpy nature. The rest had to scramble as he put the car into drive before doors were even shut. He started driving while Holt was still sorting out what direction they were even supposed to go.

        A sharp U-turn and some screaming later, they were on their way, hot on the trail of the new strange signal. Lance was sure this time that he saw a smirk on Keith’s face at the screams. Either way, this felt more like Keith to him, and if this weird signal was what kept Keith, _Keith_ , he supposed it wasn’t the worst way to spend a spring break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Late nights, early mornings, breaking the tension, and changing directions.
> 
> I may have pulled up my old ipod and put it on shuffle to get most of these songs. I might have a turn of the millenia jams playlist on youtube now... hahaha
> 
> Real talk you guys... can I write smutty fanfics _for my own fanfic_?  
>  I am definitely keeping this fic to it's teen rating, but I might or might not have some smutty asides for a couple scenes. I was thinking of posting separately and linking for those interested.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking the tension by whatever means necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! It's been a while huh??? I took a bit of an unintentional hiatus from... everything, haha. Work, weddings, travelling, all that jazz just ate up my freetime and energy @__@ Life's a little chiller now, so I've had fun picking back up some of my old projects.
> 
> Idk how many people will even remember this fic, lol, or are still reading Voltron fics now that the series is over, BUT I love writing this story! So, I'm gonna keep posting it and I hope you all enjoy it some too!!
> 
> <3

**Drafts Folder** _[unsent],_   **View** :  _Revision Mode_  
  
**To:** _Takashi Shirogane_ , **Subject** : _[no subject]_ , **Last updated** : 09-09-20XX 2:34am

 _ ~~Takashi~~_ Shirogane,

 _ ~~I miss you.~~_  It sounds like the mission has proceeded as planned so far. _~~I~~_  We expect   _ ~~you~~_   that ship back in once piece, though. So, no dumb stunts, even if Matt Holt says it would be "cool".

Keith’s doing well. ~~_He’s restless, but he always was._~~ He might have even made a friend.

_~~I can’t find the ring. Did I give it back to you? I can’t remember. If I didn’t I’m sorry. I’ve lost it. I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll pay you back for it.~~ _

The Mars mission went to Brooks and Khan. They've been adding new flight missions to the agenda  _ ~~like I told you they would~~._ It's turning into a pretty big production. _~~Maybe you should have thought about it a little more seriously. Maybe thought about anything. What about our lease?~~ ~~I didn’t want this apartment, WE wanted it! WE were supposed to talk about these things. Not pick up and run off to fucking Pluto.~~_ Khan is as excited as you'd expect. She didn't think she'd get it over Dulle, even if everyone else in the world did. The launch was delayed due to the new mission schedule. They will still depart before the Kerberos missions returns. _~~Which would have been as good as any reason to apply~~_

 _ ~~Love~~ ,   ~~Fuck off,~~    ~~Don't die.~~_   Fly Safe,

Adam W.

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 6**  

       It quickly became clear that Keith was planning on keeping up a relentless pace for this road trip, and there was no talking him out of it. Through rain or shine, mountains or desert, he had no intentions of slowing, let alone stopping for the night to squander his time with silly things like ‘sleep’. Pidge could respect that. Some things were just more important to accomplish than sleep, and while she didn’t know what answers Keith was looking for, she knew the need that had taken over. Her problems could be solved with a computer, caffeine, and some good chill beats to keep her working through the night. Keith, whatever he needed, it was out here somewhere. The signal still wasn’t anything she understood, so she couldn’t blame him for chasing it, searching for a tangible answer.

       All the same, Pidge also realized that leaving 3 teenage boys, or more specifically _these 3_ teenage boys, to haphazardly decide when to switch drivers, maybe wasn’t the best of systems to keep up the pace Keith needed. So, helping in what way she could on Keith’s quest, she pulled open her notebook and scribbled down a quick schedule to keep them all alive and well rested. Well… as well rested as they were going to be given the circumstance.

       It didn’t take her long to finish, but she didn’t even get past the idea and into the actual schedule before criticism started.

       “You don’t even drive, why should we leave the rotation chart to you?” Lance interrupted.

       “You guys wanna let me drive?” Pidge asked, waving the schedule at him. “I’ll drive.”

       “Sure, as long as you can reach the pedals,” Keith replied, so nonchalantly that he couldn’t possibly have realized the severe _burn_ he’d just delivered. Pidge scowled as Lance’s eyes widened in delight. Luckily for the general peace and prosperity of the car, Hunk cut in.

       “No.” He was resolute. Keith glanced over and he explained, “I’m not teaching Pidge how to drive stick while we’re halfway up mountains.”

       “True. I’d rather not die,” Lance agreed, nodding at the sage words.

       “We wouldn’t _die_ ,” Keith replied casually as they pulled into a gas station.

       “Probably,” Pidge tagged on.

       “No,” Hunk repeated with finality as he stepped out of the car.

       “Fine, fine. So back to the original question. Why exactly is the non-driver making our driving rotation?” Lance asked again.

       “ _Because_ I won’t be driving,” she replied. “Makes me unbiased. Also, I gave myself important tasks,” she said tapping her notebook with the scribbled schedule. “Hunk or I have to man the Detection Device, and do you really trust Hunk or Keith to pick out music?” she asked. Lance considered this before nodding.

       “You make a fair point,” he agreed solemnly.

       “My music taste is just fine!” Hunk protested from his place filling the gas. He’d taken to holding the pump a fraction of the way up, just enough so it wouldn’t click off every half gallon. It was slow, and he had to keep his grip at a constant pressure. Still, he liked it better than the stop and go version.

       “Oh, yeah yeah, for sure,” Lance lied, beaming out the window at him. Hunk frowned, not buying it in the slightest.

       “Don’t worry. I accounted for everything,” Pidge assured. Lance didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t look willing to write up an alternate driving rotation. Lance shrugged, resigning himself to whatever fate Pidge had doomed him to.

 

       The true genius of Pidge’s schedule wasn’t clear until the 3 am shift.

       Keith was soldiering on, the only car on the pitch black stretches of highway. The weather had worsened as they headed up into the foothills, skirting mountains with sheer drops on the other side of rain slicked roads. Luckily, it had cleared up as they got higher. Keith usually felt confident in his driving ability in any weather conditions, but in his sleep deprived state, he didn’t need any extra challenges. His resting rotation hadn’t been long ago, but he hadn’t been able to relax enough to get much out of it. He’d been reluctant to give up the wheel at all, even if he realistically knew he couldn’t keep driving the whole time.

       His anxiety was starting to rise up again as another day passed and he hadn’t gotten any closer to answers. To make things worse, while Katie and Hunk slept in the back, he was stuck with the gangly chatterbox as his copilot. Earplugs had been top priority for Katie and he now understood why after an hour of just the two of them awake.

       Keith tried to zone him out, focusing what little attention he had on the road. His name kept snagging at the corner of his attention, though, snapping him back in for confirmation. Each time, he would have no idea what came before or after his name, so he could only hum a noncommittal sound in response. Nothing else was required of him for the conversation, apparently. The cacophony would go on, voice raising over the radio, laughing at jokes Keith couldn’t focus on, shouting or singing or making incomprehensible noises.

       He was too tired.

       They had spent another day chasing the signal only to have it disappear before they could reach it. _Again._ The hours and miles of constant course adjustments and disappointment had built up in his chest and he could feel his heart beating against the weight of it. Every one of his emotions put more on edge by the din, amazingly created by just one person.

       Keith didn’t want to have a conversation. He didn’t want to laugh and make friends. He wanted to wake Katie up to check they were still going in the right direction. He needed to make some real progress on his mission.  At the very least, he had to have silent contemplation of his woes.

       “Right, Keith?” His name snapped his attention to his copilot. “I mean, seriously, _right_?” the insistent voice pressed him.

       “Sure!” he snapped. “Yeah! Whatever! Just be quiet for a second!” The words burst out of Keith before he could consider them. They were met with a long silence. It only took a moment for his agitation to be replaced with embarrassment at the outburst. He shot a glance over, opening his mouth to take it back. That anger was at himself, at his situation, not the cadet sitting next to him.

       He was met with a resolute face and a sharp, stiff, “fine.”

       Keith slowly closed his mouth, the apology caught in his throat by the coldness. He got what he’d asked for, though.

       It wasn’t a perfect silence, with snores from the back and the general rattling of the ancient vehicle that always sounded moments from death. It all faded into the background. There was nothing around him in the darkness but his headlights, the stars, and the fingernail clipping of a moon.

       Staring out at the night sky, cut by mountain sides and pine covered hills, he felt singular and he felt small. It wasn’t in a bad way. It was comforting in fact. He could be just this for a moment. He could watch the night pass and listen to the white noise. No thinking, no worrying, just existing.

       His mind wandered for a moment before he realized how far it had strayed. A turn shifted his view and the sight... perplexed him. He saw the stars, and they seemed to have cut through the cloud covered night more vibrant and crisp suddenly. And lower. Too low.

       Keith’s brain jolted from it’s sleepy complacency, scrambling to make sense of the scattered pinpricks of light strewn out directly in front of him. Adrenaline burst into his veins. He jerked the wheel sharply inwards.

       “Shit-”

       His senses came back to him belatedly. The stars in front of him became a hillside town, its lights cascading down into a deep valley below them. The confusion wore off almost as quickly as it had come on. He sheepishly corrected course, putting them back into their own lane. No one else in their right mind was driving at this hour, and Keith thanked the stars for that at least.

       “Woooooah there, buddy.”

       Keith didn’t look over. He didn’t want to see the expression waiting for him at the slow, smug comment. He didn’t want acknowledge what had just happened, embarrassment flooding through his veins. He had just nearly killed them all in a sleepy haze.

       “Okay,” he spoke finally, keeping his eyes resolutely forward. “So, maybe you’re right. You should probably keep talking.”

       “That’s right! In fact, I’ll do you one better!” His fingers flicked the volume dial up haphazardly. Keith was shocked the sudden burst of noise didn’t wake up the back seat. He didn’t have long to contemplate how dedicated Hunk and Katie were to their sleep. In a moment, Keith was being serenaded, loud enough to cut over the blasting music.

       “Oh, god.” he muttered, but realizing there was no way it would be heard over the singing. He raised his voice. “Are you going to be doing that the rest of the night?”

       “My voice is a _gift_ ,” he announced dramatically in response. “Plus, I think we would both like to be _alive_ come morning.” The volume was lowered a little to allow them to talk without screaming, though.

       “I suppose this is minorly better then death,” he replied, trying to keep his expression grim. He looked over and found a brilliant grin waiting for him. Despite himself Keith smiled back.

       “Oh, wait!” The light flicked on and the hulking booklet of discs was pulled out. “We’re gonna find you some old ass music so _you_ can sing along! That’ll keep you up!”

       “I don’t sing,” Keith replied instantly, even if it was a blatant lie. The truth was he didn’t sing unless he was completely alone, miles from civilization. Lance qualified as civilization, even if only barely.

       “I know, I know. It’s intimidating when I have such a beautiful voice, Keith, but it’s okay. I’ll only judge you a lot,” he informed in a chipper tone. “But just so you know, you’re officially a coward if you refuse.”

       Keith might not have risen to the bait if he were better rested. Then again he might have fallen for the smarmy grin his copilot was giving him even if he was in a perfect state of mind. It was a challenge he had to answer. He helped find a disk he might know a song on.

 

       Even if he had agreed to the challenge, Lance found Keith a less than willing karaoke participant. He muttered and mouthed along, too quiet no matter how low he set the volume. He wouldn’t belt it out like Lance kept insisting.

       “Keith! I can’t even _hear_ you,” Lance chided, reaching to change the song again. “Do you want me to get some of the ear plugs? Will that make you more _comfortable_?” he asked. Keith shot him a glare and muttered something.

       “WHAT?” Lance asked with exaggerated loudness.

       “Fine!” Keith said, hitting the next button on the stereo and looking straight ahead as a guitar riff started. Lance waited for the first verse. He still wasn’t convinced he’d get any more volume out of him, but he’d give him a shot before he redoubled his efforts.

       “Hey…” Keith started in time with the music. It was still quiet, but resolute. Lance stilled, listening as he went on, voice soft but making it over the stereo finally. “[Don’t write yourself off yet… It’s only in your head, feel left out or looked down on… Just try your best. Try everything you can… don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away…](https://youtu.be/FV-HPOHu8mY)”

       Lance was surprised, and a little annoyed, to find that Keith was not as disastrous a singer as he’d hoped. He could carry a tune well enough. It was a little husky and a little soft, but not in a bad way. In fact, it was actually-

       Lance’s internal musing were cut off by the chorus starting. Keith erupted into the chorus, finally _finally_ belting it out.

       “[IT JUST TAKES SOME TIME. LITTLE GIRL YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIDE. EVERYTHING EVERYTHING WILL BE JUST FINE. EVERYTHING, ](https://youtu.be/FV-HPOHu8mY?t=34) [ _EVERYTHING_ ](https://youtu.be/FV-HPOHu8mY?t=34) [, WILL BE ALRIGHT. ALRIGHT.](https://youtu.be/FV-HPOHu8mY?t=34)”

       Lance let out a shocked whoop of excitement, staring at him as he took a breath.

       “Hell yeah! Finally!” he cheered. Keith went right into the next verse, not lowering his voice a bit. Lance loved it.

       Usually Lance would sing along even if he didn’t know a song. He’d guess or make up words as necessary. It was easy enough to predict when things were going to repeat and he could at least match the tune. This time he didn’t. He just watched Keith, wearing a bemused smile on his face to see the other cadet let go for just a moment. The same sort of energy was coming off him as when he pulled one of his unnecessarily dangerous stunts. He was usually so tightly wound, ready to burst, but in those brief moments a sense of wild abandon came over Keith. That intensity he kept balled up inside of him escaped for a minute as he pulled off a death defying stunt. Here, shouting and singing, he was letting just a little of that Keith intensity out, and it was sort of great.

       When the song ended Lance whistled and clapped. Keith pointedly didn’t look over.

       “Shut up,” he muttered, but it was weak. He didn’t mean it. Lance was pretty sure he was enjoying the praise.

       “You _can_ sing!” he cheered,  “or well, shout at least.” He laughed. “Okay, okay, now we gotta find you a ballad to sing along to, see if you have a real voice.”

       “No, we really don’t,” Keith insisted.

       Lance laughed, but didn’t press the matter. It was probably best to continue with bops and jams, to keep Keith from losing his nerve.  Honestly, Lance didn’t need a ballad to know if Keith had a decent voice, the soft few lines before Keith had hit the chorus had been close enough. He didn’t need to _actually_ deal with the fact that Keith could sing. That’d be a bit too much.

       Really, Lance was a little mad. How _dare_ he have a nice voice? He already was a great pilot, had hair that somehow looked good many days out from a shower (still a mullet though), and surprisingly nice eyes in soft morning lighting. A good singing voice too was just rude.

       Sing alongs sustained them through the rest of Keith’s and then Lance’s shift. Ancient jams taking them through to morning light, alive and well.

 

#### Team Responsibility

 

       Adam was surprised to see Matt up first. The guy had struck him as a night owl, not a morning person. It was barely 6am, though, and he was already bustling around the room making a ruckus. He wasn’t even sure how someone could make this much noise so early in a hotel room. He cracked an eye open to watch the young science officer rushing around the room, muttering happily to himself. He _was_ a Holt after all. Multiple times, Matt hopped over Takashi, still snoring on the floor with his arms wrapped around the extra pillow.

       Adam groaned, missing the momentary bliss upon waking up of **_not_ ** remembering the situation he’d gotten himself in. In his defense, he’d agreed to come before he’d known this trip would include 24+ hours stuck in a car with his ex. That was a shaky excuse at best. He had known the second he saw Keith and the little Holt checked out that this would be trouble. He should have just done the honorable thing and turned a blind eye. Instead he’d done the stupid thing and gotten himself involved.

       Takashi finally stirred when one of Matt’s hops didn’t quite clear him, kicking his shoulder over. He sat up, shirtless and with hair tousled. After some confused blinking, he did what he always does when he first wakes up. He took in a deep breath, stretching his arms up over his head, fingers interlaced. His whole face scrunched up for a moment as he held the stretch, pulling first one way, then the other. It was completely unfair that he did this all shirtless. He let out a puff of breath his and eyes opened as he let his hands go, rolling out his shoulders as his arms dropped back to his sides. He smiled an easy contented smile and breathed out a quiet “all right,” before popping up onto his feet. The whole process was all painfully familiar.

       Shiro was shockingly perky for having just slept on the floor, not bothered by it in the slightest. Then again, that didn’t really surprise Adam. Takashi had always preferred something firmer to sleep on. When they had been picking out a new mattress-- **_nope_ **.

       Adam’s mind severed that line of thought at the root. He stood up to get dressed, taking his things with him to the little bathroom and closing the door to seal himself off from any possible furthering of those thoughts.

 

       When he came back out, Matt was heading to the door.

       “Okay, so I got you and Adam’s orders, anything else you guys’ll want? Croissants?”

       “I don’t know. Breakfast stuff we can eat in the car. Surprise me,” Takashi replied.

       “Gogurts it is,” Matt said, throwing a thumbs up over his shoulder.

       “Yeah, well, I get first pick of whatever you get, since you kicked me,” he said.

       “You shouldered my foot! Honestly, you should be apologizing to _me_.”

       Takashi snorted as the door slammed.

       Adam watched the exchange quietly, some little part of his brain not wanting to ruin it yet with his presence. He regretted not letting himself be known the second Takashi turned his head, though. He was smiling, honestly and casually, his hair still a mess. The grin dropped from his lips the second they made eye contact.

       With Matt gone, that thick silence crashed down over them, filling the room. In a second they were drowning in it. He had to do _something_. He didn’t want to address it, but he wasn’t sure if he could do another 6 hours in a car like that, let alone the drive back.

       He pushed a hand back through his hair, letting out a loud sigh, grabbing it by the roots for a moment as he thought. He watched as Takashi’s eyes followed his hand. He dropped it. The eyes followed it  shotdown then back up to his.

       “Matt went for coffee.” Takashi was the first one to break the silence. It had probably only been a second or two but it had felt like an eternity was captured in it. They were teens again, unsure of how to act around each other now that everything was laid bare. They’d devolved. It was pathetic. “So….” he trailed off uselessly.

       This wasn’t how he meant for it to be. He wanted the two of them to be able to exist together still. Just because he couldn’t do all _that_ with Shiro, didn’t mean he wanted _this_ between them. He wanted things to just be casual-though he’d probably killed that possibility when he invited himself along on this rescue mission.

       But _fuck_ , Takashi was still looking at him with that same dumb intense stare he’d had the whole time they were driving. Adam felt exposed under it, burnt down to his foundations. More than that even, he felt drowned in the sentimentality that laid just below that icy top layer.

       He hated it.

       How _dare_ he look at him like that. What gave him the right to look at him with so much expectation? He’d said his piece a year ago and Takashi hadn’t asked for more of an explanation then. So why did he think he got to come back now and get one? Hell, he wasn’t asking for one still, just staring as if that were enough. They could have argued back then. He could have stayed and they could have shouted about it all. But he’d left, and then _he’d left_. It was too late for that now.

        _And why hadn’t he put a goddamn shirt on yet?_

       Adam had to do something. He felt his blood heating up just by the sheer collective awkwardness of the past half day and the unresolved _everything_ that hung between them. He still had those old 2000’s songs stuck in his head. He lifted his hand to his face again planning to rub the frustration out of his temple. Shiro’s eyes followed the hand, trained on it. Something snapped in Adam at that.

       He stomped over to where Takashi sat, seated against the headboard of the bed. No questions made it out of Takashi’s mouth. They all collected in the wide, confused stare he followed Adam’s war path with. Adam paused to loom over him for a moment. Glare at him because he deserved a good glaring at.

 

       Shiro wasn’t sure what he expected Adam to do after he’d stomped over. It was clear that the tension between them wasn’t sustainable. Maybe Adam was just going to have it out with him like he hadn’t a year ago, when he’d coolly set down his ring on the coffee table before he walked back to the kitchen to pour himself a new cup of coffee. Maybe it was finally time to argue and fight. He remembered the numbness of that moment, how long it had taken his mind to catch up to it. He hadn't had the mental capacity to ask questions then, not with the Kerberos mission 36 hours away.

       He readied himself for a debate, a fight, a punch. Everything he’d expected a year ago. None of that came though. He was faced with something he couldn’t have prepared for, no matter how many times he’d played this moment over in his head while he was in space. Instead of any reasonable response Adam’s hand shot out and he grabbed the back of Shiro’s head, steadying it as he leaned in-

       Shiro had once fallen with all his weight crashing down on the back of his elbow. It had hit the ulnar nerve so hard that a sharp prickling pain shot up to his ring finger and pinky, and then a moment later, both had gone numb. That was what Shiro's face felt like when Adam’s lips collided with his.

       He didn’t have the sense to kiss back at first, if he was even supposed to be kissing back in this situation. Still, when he’d finally gathered his senses, he made the best of it. Adam responded instantly. The kiss went from firm to vicious. Lips pressed turned into lips bit, blunt nails ran across scalp and curled into hair. The prickling sensation of knowing they fit together still so perfectly crawled down Shiro's spine. He wasn't sure if it was a relief or a dreadful thing to know, because all too soon his head was dropped.

       Adam pulled away and set his glasses back in place, choosing to ignore the obvious smudges from where they’d been crushed between them. He pushed his hair back into place, fingers working quickly to smooth it back down as he straightened himself up and squared his shoulders. His face was already back to neutral.

       "So, you can stop staring at me now," he said. "It's official. You got your kiss goodbye. We can both move on."

       Shiro wanted to argue. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to ask how he was supposed to "move on" from a kiss like **_that_ ** . His mouth fell open, but it all caught in his throat, not knowing where to even begin. Adam stood there, hands on his hips, looking so matter of fact that he realized there was only one answer _to_ give.

       “All right.” He finally said.

       “All right,” Adam agreed with a sharp nod.

        Shiro stood himself up and felt oddly light.

       He almost laughed to realize that the air felt clearer between them. The tension that had kept him on edge, not knowing if he was even allowed to look at Adam had passed. It seemed pretty obvious that, yes, Adam still also found him attractive. If he happened to linger too long on his smile, or stare when he leaned over, well... At least he hadn't been the only one that still was thinking about it. So, he supposed now that that was out there he could move forward.

       He wished, though, that Adam's pragmatic demolishing and moving on from their sexual tension for the good of the mission wasn't, in and of itself, a total turn on. That was a different sort of problem. He wasn’t walking on eggshells anymore. This he could deal with better.

       They were allowed to be something friendly again, at least. He didn’t have answers yet, but the kiss had taken away the lie, and that was a start. Now was just dealing with everything else.

 

       Matt returned to a quiet motel room, but not the frigid unbreathable air he was expecting. The quiet was surprisingly light and casual and he instantly searched out Shiro’s eyes for an explanation. He received an innocent look and a light shrug from across the room. He didn’t believe it for a second. Something had happened. He wasn’t sure if it was a screaming match or they had banged, but it was _something_.

       Whatever it was he was thankful. When they got back into the car, breakfast baked goods and coffee just how everyone liked, Adam actually thanked Shiro for giving Matt the right order. Matt didn’t even think there was passive-aggressive undertones in the comment. He could have cried in relief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Changing gears and charming cashiers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tourist Traps and charming cashiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's great about taking 6 months off from writing absolutely anything and then bulldozing back in??? Completely failing at continuity and destroying your own timeline. WHOOPS! For now the laws of time and space will just be a little wibbly wobbly because I don't have the mental capacity to restructure the last chapter. lmao. ~~Ask Slav to explain it to you, he'll have a reason. It's probably because I wear my socks inside out. Messes with the timelines you know!~~
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting!! <3<3<3  
> 

* * *

 

 

Veronica  
  
**Yesterday** 10:32 PM  
You've been suspiciously quiet lately.  
  
**Today** 7:42 AM  
What trouble have you gotten yourself into?  
  
I can only cover for you so many times  
  
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?  
  
Trouble?  
  
me?  
  
You know I know EVERYBODY in the disciplinary office right?  
  
I'm not in trouble!!!!!  
  
I mean, I WAS in SOME trouble  
  
But thats unrelated!! I'm helping out a friend. Well... okay it started out as me wanting to punch the dude at first but he deserved it!!!  
  
anyway were friends now. i might still punch him idk  
  
You're not making be feel better  
  
I've never done anything wrong in my live  
*life

LANCE WHAT DID YOU DO

Hunk is with me!

why didn't you say so

Tell Hunk hi! And we love him and are proud of him!!!

He says he loves you too

**Today** 8:12 AM

 

 

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 7**

 

       Keith woke up cranky, mostly because the first thing he realized was that they weren’t moving. Instinct butted in before thought and a protest rose up in his throat. He wanted to shout that the signal would get away if they stayed still too long. His cry was headed off by something waving in his face. The agitation subsided, somewhat, when the second thing he realized was it was a burger. It took the smell of greasy fried beef hitting him to realize just how hungry he was. He snatched it. Hunk continued handing out burgers.

       “I got extra pickles on yours,” Hunk said as he handed one to Katie.

       “Hmmm, good,” she said, sitting up and adjusting herself in the tangled seat belts. For all her ‘safety be damned’ attitude, she never took them off while they were moving.

       “I want extra pickles,” Keith muttered under his breath, not having realized he did until he saw Katie unwrapping a greasy double burger with so many pickles she had to keep most of it in the wrappings just to stop them all from falling out.

       “Heh, suck it,” Pidge replied, plucking out an overflowing pickle to eat.

       “We’ll just bye a jar of pickles next place we stop,” Hunk suggested.

       “Do they sell pickles at gas stations?” came a yawning question.

       Keith didn’t look over, still a little embarrassed from having spent the whole night singing in front of another human being. Worse, when Keith had finally given up the wheel, and there wasn’t a need to shout all the lyrics to keep him awake, it had become clear that his driving companion actually had a very nice voice. Maybe he just didn’t feel the need to ‘perform’ when Keith seemed moments away from sleep, but the singing had kept him from totally dozing off until they’d traded off driving to Hunk and Katie. He wished he _had_ fallen asleep, though, because now, in the judgmental light of day, he had to deal with a fact that he’d sounded completely ridiculous in front of someone who could _actually_ sing.

       Keith wasn’t in the habit of dealing with complex social interactions like this. Generally he’d have just avoided the root cause; he never spent this much continuous time with any living human beings except, maybe, Shiro. He didn’t know how to deal with being ‘embarrassed’ other than walking away, and that wasn’t exactly an option at the moment. Avoiding eye contact would have to do for now.

       “More importantly,” Katie went on, saving Keith from his own spiralling thoughts, “if they do. Do we _want_ gas station pickles?” She gave them all a serious look. They took some time to eat and discuss the finer points of what qualified a gas station to be trustworthy enough to eat a pickle from it. The food, chatter, and worry that his late night singing would be revealed, was a good enough distraction to keep Keith’s sense of impending doom at bay for the time being.

 

       They were soon on the road again, heading towards the last signal they’d picked up, but they had no specific heading. The signal had  fuzzed out some 50 miles back. With no direction, sitting in the back didn’t feel like enough. So, Keith broke the rotation schedule, much to Katie’s agitation, insisting he was good to drive. He needed _something_ to do. The rest of the drivers didn’t seem to mind, happy to relax and let him take charge.

       It was nearing midday when they finally picked something up again. It had been their longest stretch of silence since starting the trip. It started with Hunk and Katie clamoring over something. Keith ignored it at first, assuming it was another tourist trap someone thought sounded ‘neat’. He passed the exit before he actually started listening and caught words like “the detector” and “it’s really strong”. Katie shouted to go back instead of the usual whine that he was no fun, so Keith plastered them to the side of the car as he did a quick, illegal u-turn and got them off on the exit.

       “Left!” Hunk instructed. Any small bit of calmness Keith had managed to collect with food and company vanished. He was back to blindly running forward as fast as his feet, or this ancient mechanical disaster, could take him.

       He recklessly shot them over gravelly roads, passing an ever increasing number of signs for the Bandit’s Den Wax Museum and Caves. The signs had started a good hundred miles back, but now they were growing exponentially in number. With increasing urgency they told the car full of teens of the attractions, where to turn, and increasingly bizarre claims to fame on whatever surface they could pay for, be it billboard or side of a barn. ‘World’s smallest coin collection’, ‘Rocky Mountain Gold Panner’s Weekly’s top 7 best family friendly places to visit’, and a truly strange insistence that they had the only wax figure west of the Mississippi to use real fingernails. There might have been a whole discussion about _that_ particular billboard, if it wasn’t for the frantic nature of Keith’s driving.

       Keith screeched them to a stop in the back of the parking lot to the heavily advertised caves. The place wasn’t full by any means, but he didn’t have time to park in the vaguest vicinity of other vehicles. He managed to pull out the key while simultaneously launching himself out the door and yanking the back open. It didn’t seem like he should have enough hands to do all of this at once, but he managed, and somehow made it look natural. Katie and Hunk stared, startled to find him there so quick. They weren’t ready to give him the news of the last 20 seconds yet.

       “It’s gone isn’t it,” Keith asked when they didn’t have any words for him.

       “Whenever we get close it blurs and then it disappears,” Katie exclaimed, her mouth twisting up in frustration that would have seemed extreme, if it wasn’t in direct comparison to Keith’s.

       “We can only get a vague heading to start, because it’s weak and… echo-y?” Hunk said, glancing to Katie to see if she agreed that was a reasonable translation into layman’s terms. She nodded and he looked back to Keith. While Katie looked annoyed, Hunk just looked apologetic, his expression pained more for Keith than himself. “When we get closer--well what we’ve been assuming is closer--it gets stronger, but then we hit this wall and it just blurs. It’s like it goes out of focus. Then it disappears before we can get a small scale heading.”

       Keith was quiet for along moment. He stood up, taking in his surroundings for.  It was clearly a summertime destination, given the main attractions were camping and canoeing. March was still a bit chilly for swimming this far north. Even so, there was a bit of a bustle. The billboards did their job well enough. The campgrounds stretched out behind them on either side of the gravelly road. One side disappeared into wooded areas, while the other stopped at a wide river, which had steep cliffs rising up on the far side. There was a large sign describing the caves, attached to the building in front of them, claiming miles of cave to be explored.

       “Let’s go,” he said. Even if they wanted to search the area, how would they even know if they found it without being able to detect the signal? How would they escape the tour guides promised for each spelunking adventure to comb the caves? He slowly moved back to the driver’s seat.

       “Hold your horses buddy! There was promise of freaky wax figures,” a loud voice insisted, kicking the passenger seat door open, it sometimes needed to be kicked but this was clearly done for dramatic effect this time, and throwing gangly legs out. Keith still hadn’t looked at his late night karaoke buddy.

       “And a cave tour! It said there was a light show!” Katie chimed in. “What sort of lightshow do you do in a cave?”

       “And handmade fudge in 32 different flavors. I’m not even sure what all they would be!” Hunk added, apparently his curiosity piqued by a different sort of mystery.

       Keith hesitated. The place felt like a defeat to him already, but he wasn’t sure why he would be in a rush to fail again. That’s all they’d done since they set off, over and over, change course, loose signal, chase nothing. They weren’t doing this right. He sighed.

       “We aren’t doing a whole tour… We can get fudge though,” he caved.

       “Whoo! I’m getting a dumb t-shirt,” Katie said, bursting out of the car door.

       “Not without me!” The two ran off.

       Hunk trailed along a little slower, leaving it to the experts to find the ugliest novelty t-shirts and other tacky trinkets they didn’t need. He looked back at Keith, seeing he was a little dazed by the loss of the signal. Again.

       “Come on dude. There’s a cafeteria here. We’ll do lunch and get back on the road. Those two will get some dumb flailing out of their system too, so win-win,” he offered, putting on a smile.

       Keith nodded. His feeling of urgency had vanished. He found he didn’t want to get back on the road. He’d lost his certainty that if he just ran far enough and hard enough, eventually he’d catch it--whatever ‘it’ was.

 

       The gift shop connected directly to the caves, letting the cool, earthy air flow up freely. He stared at the strange transition where the giftshop morphed from wood paneled to natural stony walls. The floor sloped down and a smaller shop, full of large crystal formations and fossils stood behind a counter. These items felt too fancy for the kitchy gift shop above, full of gimmicky mass produced trinkets. The giant geodes and fossilized critters looked better in the ambiance of the cave’s mouth. Further in it opened wider, making a natural area to set up ticket booths, blocking it off with metal railing and turnstiles built directly into the stone floor. Peering in, he could barely see the tunnels beyond, unlit as they waited for a tour to start. They were just pits on blackness in the distance.

       There was no point going in, but he stayed in the opening, next to the crank machine that smashed pennies into cheap souvenirs. He stared as if just the intensity of his need would allow him to develop an extra sense to track the signal himself.

       Nothing happened.

       He heard the ruckus behind him of the rest of his road trip companions as they gathered back together in the little food court on the other side of the building. He turned away from the silent cave and headed to join them.

       Hunk plunked some food down in front of him, and he started eating it without really considering what it was. Hunk wasn’t going to get him something bad, he knew that much. He looked around at the group. There was chattering excitement over neon shirts with confusing phrases on them. He supposed they were puns, but they were so specific to this place he didn’t understand them, or maybe he was just bad at puns. They had never been his forte. Hunk had managed to get a sliver of every single fudge flavor. He shouldn’t have been allowed to buy it in such small portions but the grinning cashier behind them seemed to suggest he’d charmed his way into getting an exception.

       He ate his lunch quietly, letting the energy and liveliness of them all wash over him. He didn’t feel the need to participate. It was oddly soothing just to be enveloped in the chatter, forcing his mind to focus on it instead of anything else.

       “All right!” Hunk said, collecting up trays and trash as everyone got up.

       Keith was slower than the rest to get to his feet. He hadn’t regained his desire to get back on the road. He was still thinking about the cave, searching for an unknown force in the pitch black, winding paths. That was what his search had always been.

       Hunk and Katie were already out the door by the time he’d finished his last sips of soda and collected himself enough to get up. When Keith stood, he nearly ran into the a bag hanging in front of his face. He blinked and took a half step back, staring at it.

       “What-?”

       “You didn’t get yourself anything. You _need_ a dumb souvenir from a place like this, Keith. It’s the law.” The bag was thrust at him and he took it. He looked down, focusing on the gift instead of the gifter, who he’d still been avoiding eye contact with for his dignity’s sake.

       “Uh… thanks?” Keith muttered, as he cautiously opened it. He pulled out a small plastic dinosaur, or the head of one with a tube like upper torso, plated spikes running down his back, and the bottom left open. Dangling off the top of its head was a keychain ring. “Uh… what is it?”

       “Steggarious The Friendly Stegosaurus!” His voice was so excited, Keith finally looked up. He was assaulted by the most self-satisfied grin he’d ever seen waiting for him. He looked back at the malformed dinosaur, tilting it back and forth and watching the googly eyes rattle about. “It’s also a finger puppet,” he tagged on, like he was adding icing to the cake.

       Keith put the hideous thing it on his finger before he thought better of it. He was too confused to really think about what he was doing. He wiggled it back and forth. His eyes darted up when he heard laughing.

       “Oh my god, you can’t do that with such a serious face!” Laughter tumbled out of his fellow cadet. Keith’s eyes fluttered and he consciously removed the tension from his brow and tried to make his face neutral. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but the laughter subsided.

       “So…” Keith trailed off. He didn’t often receive gifts, let alone such… unique ones.

       “I was just messing around. Seriously though, someone is going to lose that stupid tiny piece of metal so we have to put something on it so we--” he stopped mid sentence. “Are you actually putting it on your keys?”

       “It’s a keyring…” Keith replied. His expression was probably too serious again because he heard a snort. But what else was he supposed to do with it?

       “Yeah! Ha yeah, yep it is.” He was grinning again and tossing an arm around Keith walking him out of the giftshop and back to the car to take back up his co-pilot position.

 

       Keith paused when he was back in the driver’s seat, new keychain dangling from the keys in the ignition but not turned. They’d wasted so much time already, _he’d_ wasted so much time because they were working off half information, wandering around in the dark.

       “This isn’t going to work is it?” Keith asked the car, despite keeping his eyes set forward.

       “Want an honest answer?” Katie said after a pause.

       “I think I need one, yeah,” he replied.

       “Yeah, no, we’re getting nowhere. I don’t know if this thing is moving, or I’m just not seeing the pattern. Hunk?” She turned to him.

       “I got nothing. I don’t see any patterns. To the point that it almost feels like whatever it is is trying to be as random and unpredictable as possible,” he replied, not having to think about his reply at all. Clearly he’d decided this a while ago.

       “Yeah! It feels intentional,” she agreed, excitedly. Keith cut them off, knowing that spark in Katie’s eye. She was about to spew a lot of nerd talk. It happened sometimes, more often around Hunk. He had something to say before they were fully derailed.

       “We need more information,” he stated. They all looked to him.

       “Uh, yeah, no duh. You been holding out on us?” Katie asked.

       “Uhm… well maybe?” Keith said, grimacing. He was already starting to regret saying anything, knowing the path he was setting himself on. “So… I think we need to stop by Grentsville.”

       “Grentsville?” Hunk asked. Katie already had her phone in hand, punching it in.

       “Where the hell is Grentsville?”

       “Southwestern Texas, apparently,” Katie informed. “Middle of nowhere too.”

       “Texas?” his co-pilot asked, loudly. “Cool that’s only like _1000 miles away_.”

       “Why?” Hunk cut in.

       “I was born there-uh-grew up there,” Keith said, nervous but determined to keep going, “I think my dad might have known something about all…” he waved a hand vaguely around in the air, “this. Maybe if we dig around there’ll be something more to go off of.”

       “Why didn’t we start by going there then?” Katie asked, seeming irritated to be working on limited data when she didn’t need to be.

       “Look! I thought we’d just catch it and I’d have the answers,” Keith replied defensively. “I don’t _know_ that there’ll be anything there.” Even as he said it, though, he didn’t believe it. He knew there were answers there, deep down. He just hadn’t wanted to go.

       “I guess we’re heading to Texas.” Keith was surprised how quick the ‘1000 miles away’ suddenly didn’t seem to matter, apparently more important things had come up. He started the car. “So… you’re Texan?” he went.

       “Yes?” Keith glanced over and found a grin which made him instinctively frown.

       “I knew I’d heard you say ‘ya’ll’ before!” he shouted.

       “Say ‘howdy, partner’!”

       “Do you own cowboy boots?”

       “You don’t have an accent. Are you first generation Texan? That doesn’t count as being Texan, I’m pretty sure.”

       “Oh yeah, I hear you have to be at least third generation. Your parents have to be born in Texas.”

       “Guys, you’re missing the most important thing--Keith can you wrangle a cow or at you a city slicker?”

       “Oh! We need to get Keith a hat before we get back to his hometown! How will they recognize him as one of their own without a cowboy hat?”

       The conversation spiraled, as the rest of the car theorized about the shocking discovery of his origins. It was ridiculous. And strangely soothing. The conversation, despite being about him, barely needed his input. Even when questions were directed at him someone else was willing to supply an answer in his stead. He took the teasing and speculation in stride and felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad going back.

       At least he wouldn’t be alone when he did.

 

#### Team Responsibility

 

       Just a bit past noon, the group of officers arrived at the little town in Wyoming where Matt had traced the activity on Pidge’s phone to. There wasn’t much to the town, a strip mall, a fuel station, and a large home supplies store that seemed to double as a general store. There was no sign of the ancient little car, but a lot of time had passed since Matt had first gotten the location.

       After a quick search through the town, they wheeled into the station to recharge the car. They didn’t have any leads on where to go next, but in such a small town, and with such a distinctively ancient vehicle, the most obvious answer was to ask around.

       The attached convenience store only had one lone employee that didn’t look particularly interested in the fact that there were customers in the store no matter how loud the door chime was. Instead of looking over at the deafening ring, they continued watching a news stream of a flashily dressed young woman explaining the exciting events of the day, everything from celebrity gossip to politics. Their tablet was propped up by a couple boxes of candy behind the counter. The video was turned on just a little too loud to be appropriate in the workplace, letting the news echo around the store, fighting with the genericly pleasant music.

       “We should get some supplies and start combing the area,” Shiro said as they wandered through the aisles. Matt redirected them towards the front counter.

       “We should ask if anyone’s seen the car. They were definitely here,” he insisted.

       “That _thing_ is hard to miss,” Adam added, placidly. He ignored the sharp look Shiro gave him.

       “Okay, we’ll ask,” Shiro said, stepping up towards the counter just in time for the infotainment show to change topics.

       “The Kerberos missions back!” the young woman chimed brightly on the screen, “And _yes_ we’re all disappointed that we’ve only gotten a press conference with Dr. Samuel Holt and the ground staff. We are notably missing is our star pilot and space hottie.” The young woman, clearly some sort of personality, made the news sound tragic, pictures of Shiro flashing across the screen. The timing was comically perfect, even if the clerk didn’t look up to appreciate it.

       “Hi,” Shiro said, putting on a smile to match the current photo of him on the screen.

       “Hey, what do you need,” the clerk said, no inflection seeming to indicate the question needed an answer. Their eyes flicked over then back to the screen, then sharply back to Shiro. The news personality continued to explain the delectability of this particular space hunk, who was now standing in front of the dumbfounded cashier.

       “Yeah, I was just wondering if I could ask you a couple questions,” he said pleasantly as he was openly gawked at.

       “Oh my god. You’re Takashi Shirogane,” the store clerk blurted belatedly. Their eyes had expanded to the size of saucers.

       “And what am I, chopped liver?” Matt muttered to Adam, a few paces back. His picture had also flashed across the screen, though only as a means to zoom into Shiro’s face, or ass if it happened to be in good view.

       “I know, I know,” Adam muttered back, joining Matt in a long suffering sigh. Shiro ignored the two of them in favor of turning on his professionally charming personality and stepping right up to the counter. The 20-something store clerk seemed at a loss for what to do with all this space hero standing right in front of them.

       “What are yo--shouldn’t you be--Aren’t there press conferences you should be at?” they stammered.

       “Well, they do let us out every once in a while,” he replied. He didn’t mention all the missed phone calls and half-baked excuses all three of them had been giving for the past 24 hours. “You know, a little vacation. We were supposed to meet some younger cadets up here, in fact. Have they stopped by, by chance? There should be four of them? I don’t think we’re getting good reception out here.” Shiro let out a little laugh. “You would think, they can talk to us on the moon of pluto, they’d have figured out a way to talk to us anywhere on Earth, but here we are, huh?”

       Adam and Matt rolled their eyes and went back to picking out supplies, leaving Shiro to schmooze. He wasn’t half bad at it. It made both of his companions want to share some of his less optimal social interactions. They both had stories of when he’d failed at the very core of human interaction. Like watching him throw a fit 200 days into space when a message casually spoiled a series he planned to binge when he got home. Or better, watching him try to act like a human being while hungover and 3 hours away from finals.

       The two of them settled on very meaningful eye contact to convey all of this as they moved a few aisles away. There was a promise to share blackmail material later in that look.

       “I never know if that,” Matt gestured to Shiro leaning on the counter and chatting with a blushing, excited cashier, “is him being oblivious, or if he knows what he’s doing.”

       “He’s oblivious” Adam said, resolutely.

       “Really?”

       “Oh yeah. You can tell because if he were actually trying to be flirty, he’d be stammering and backtracking and a mess,” he replied, a mean smile just barely gracing his lips.

       “Oh no! Shiro can’t flirt?” Matt asked in a hushed gasp, his own smile huge and delighted for the gossip.

       “Not at all. Not intentionally at least. It’s a disaster,” Adam assured. “He gets caught up in his own head so far that things don’t even come out in the right order. He has to back track and flubs every. Single. Pick up line.”

       Matt snorted and smacked his leg in lieu of laughing audibly. “Oh… oh that’s so good. So, when he’s doing his whole...,” he waved vaguely at the counter again, “thing. He has no idea?”

       “No idea. He just thinks everyone in the world is just really friendly, not that he’s a fucking disney prince.”

       “So, right now, the cashier is slowly turning red…” Matt watched the scene unfold. Shiro leaned on the counter. His shirt’s V is a little more exposing than it had any right to be over his pecs and his bicep on good display too. The poor store clerk was struggling to keep eye contact. “No idea?”

       “Look, he’s better than he was at 18,” Adam conceded, glancing at the scene. “But he gets it maybe half the time, if he’s reminded to look for people hitting on him.”

       “Man, think of all the evil we could do with this sort of power…” Matt mused.

       “I got so many free drinks on Thursdays. He’d come back to the table with three, blissfully unaware they were all invitations.” Adam admitted with a small smirk.

       “Wait, why Thursdays?” Matt asked, frowning a little.

       “Hmm? Thursdays are gay,” he replied matter of factly. When Matt continued to stare he said, “All the bars and clubs around the Garrison did Gay Thursdays. You always could find all your gays in college by who was hungover Friday mornings.”

       “Oh my god…. That’s why I got hit on by so many guys that semester I had Fridays off.” Matt’s eyes had gone wide with dawning realization. “I never knew. I was just getting drunk with my DnD group--I didn’t go _clubbing_.”

       “Yeah, no shit,” Adam muttered, thoughtlessly.

       “Hey! Don’t be snarky because I was having actual fun while you were bumming drinks off Shiro’s good looks and shouting over shitty music,” Matt shot back.

       Adam let out a sharp laugh. He was too shocked to even glare after being so viciously taken down by the science officer. He made a mental note not to give Matt any _real_ blackmail material. It seemed like it could be a deadly mistake.

       It wasn’t long until Shiro was back with the unfortunate news. They’d missed them and there was no real heading to go on other than, “headed back towards the highway?”. It seemed a guess more than a statement.

       “So…” Adam said, the sigh very present in his voice, even if he kept it from escaping entirely. Shiro’s eyes went to Matt and Adam’s followed.

       “I’ll see what I can do! But Katie still isn’t answering me. I’m sure she wouldn’t slip up twice if she’s really trying to--” Matt stated, reluctantly pulling out his phone to try and find any further clues to the runaway’s whereabouts. He stopped in his tracks. “Well, I’ll be damned. They’re in Colorado.”

       “Oh good,” Shiro said, quickly.

       “Southern Colorodo,” Matt clarified. “They got about 4 hours on us, seems.”

       “Less good,” he said, but didn’t seem too discouraged.

       “But she used her GPS to get directions somewhere!” he announced, triumphantly.

       “How do you even know that?” Adam asked, frowning a little.

       “You think I can’t hack my little sister’s phone? I can hack anyone’s anything,” he replied. Adam raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Don’t challenge me,” Matt warned. Adam decided just not to get on Matt’s bad side at all.

       “Where was she searching?” Shiro asked.

       “Grentsville? Though that’s 1000 miles out of their way so I don’t know,” Matt said, but looked up to see a very determined looking Shiro.

       “No. They’re heading to Grentsville.” He stated. At the questioning looks he received, he clarified. “It’s Keith’s hometown.”

       “I guess we head them off in Grentsville then,” Adam said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Keith... buddy you had WEEKS to figure this out. How do you still not know?
> 
> Shout out to the wonderful creators this [tutorial for making text messages](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845) on AO3. I'm way too rusty to do this shit on my own. lol


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Finally_ someone gets hit on by a truck stop babe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who's read and commented recently! I really love writing this goofy thing, so it means a lot to hear you guys are enjoying it too. 
> 
> <3

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**Excerpt from: Log date (local): 09.13.20XX**

_“ [...] At 1900 local time ---- and I located the wreckage of a --- --- class - ship we shot down. All occupants, 2 in total, were presumed dead upon impact. I have reasonable confidence the forged Emergency Flight Record signals will hold up to ---- scrutiny and delay suspicion of the region. All the same, my confidence is shaken. I have spent nearly 3 rotations on --- without any indication of follow up investigation in this quadrant. I have grown too complacent. I have grown too attached. [...]"_

 

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####  **Chapter 8**

  
  


       Despite concerted efforts being taken by other parties on the road trip, it was Keith who was hit on by a “truckstop babe”.

       It might have been how he leaned his whole body on the side of the car nonchalantly, resting his head in one hand as the other held on to the pump. Or maybe it was the fact that a few days of grease looked good in his hair, as if he’d styled it using products with descriptions like ‘get a sexy bedhead look in an instant’. It could have just been how little he seemed to care what the world thought of him, creating a sense of mystique, which was in actuality just exhaustion.

       The pump clicked off and he waited. His lips mumbled along as he counted to 12 before trying for the next half gallon. He closed his eyes against the lowering sun, the light hitting him, giving him a soft, rosy glow. He could have been described as breathtaking, or as breathtaking as one could be after days crammed into a car as small as possible while still having 4 doors, with 3 other teenagers.

       The young woman that approached him was tall, curvy, and screamed confidence right down to her walk. She strolled right up to the pump and leaned against it to look Keith up and down. He didn’t notice. He was counting to 12 again.

       "Taking you a while filling up there,” she noted, in a voice that didn’t care how mundane the conversation was, it was determined to be sultry. “Need some help?" She asked.

       "It only fills up a half gallon at a time," Keith's stated, voice dry and informative. He barely cracked an eye to look at her, still squinting against the dipping sun. She looked surprised for a moment, then recovered.

       "I could take a look under your hood for you,” she offered, her insistently flirtatious voice making the it feel explicit. “If you like.”

       At that Keith lifted his head up and squinted both eyes at her. Her tone was lost on his road trip addled brain, though it was unlikely to have had its intended effects even with his mind at peak capacity. He felt a little offended at the idea of a stranger offering to mess with his car. Fixing it somehow made it less  _ his _ . They fit together as they were, workably broken, just needing a little more patience than some. A stab of protectiveness spurred him to straighten up and rebuff her properly.

       Before he could say anything of the sort though, the car sunk under his elbow propped up on the roof. He pushed himself off the car as Hunk's head popped out the window. He was scowling worse than Keith.

       "This road trip already has a mechanic," he snipped, defensively. "So move along." 

       The young woman considered fighting this rejection for a moment, but in the face of the lovable Hunk’s pouting glare, she had no recourse. She only had one last offer to make.

       "If your hunk of junk breaks down while you're still in the area," she said, flicking a card out of nowhere. "And I’d give that a 70/30 chance in favor of a breakdown... Give me a call.” She scribbled a little something extra on the card with a pen that appeared out of a different bit of nowhere.

       When Keith didn't reach out for it, apparently too busy with the slow filling of his tank, she pushed herself out of her casual lean on the pump and pressed it to his hand. "Or if you just get lonely on the road and need someone to talk to," she added. Keith stared at the hand on his, so confused by the physical contact that he completely missed the wink she tried to give him.

       Ah well, she’d given it a shot.

 

       Lance came out of the fueling station’s bathroom with perfect timing to catch the girl sauntering past him and away from their car. He swiveled as she went by. She barely even gave him a sideways glance. He walked the rest of the way to the car backwards watching her cross the station and hop onto her hoverbike.

       “Did I just miss literally the  _ only _ hot babe who wouldn’t be scared away by this dumpster fire of a car?” Lance asked.

       “Huh?” Keith frowned. He lifted the business card. “She just wanted to fix it,” he explained, sounding deeply offended.

       “As if I couldn’t do it better!” Hunk huffed from the window.

       Lance snatched the card as the hot biker babe sped off. He flicked it around and groaned. “Come on Keith!”

       “What?” Keith asked looking between the pump and Lance as it clicked off. 

       Lance shoved the back side of the card into his view. It had a little heart and an extra set of numbers written on it in red, smeared ink. Keith looked down at his thumb, covered in red ink.

       “I can’t even read it!” Lance bemoaned. “How am I going to call her and apologize for your social ineptitude and then she falls in love with my swav and charming banter. And then she’s like ‘but which one were you. I don’t remember anyone who looked as handsome as you sound’. And I’ll be like ‘we met eyes only briefly. I was the tall, dark, and handsome one walking back to the car’. And she’ll gasp, saying she thought I couldn’t have possibly have been in that horrible little car. I was too handsome for it. And we’ll laugh…”

       Keith stared, Hunk snorted out a laugh, and Pidge snuck up and gave him a vicious jab in the side with a boney little gremlin finger. Lance yipped, forced out of his daydream.

       “All right, loverboy. Next truck stop hottie is all yours. Let’s get moving,” she said.

       They left before Lance could wax poetic about his hypothetical road trip love affairs, or Hunk could start complaining about how Keith should just let him figure out the gas tank, or the AC, or the blinkers, or the horrific rattling. Keith just tossed the keys to Lance and headed to the back seat.

 

       Keith was less manic now that they had a goal he knew wouldn’t literally vanish on him. He still kept them on a strict schedule, but it didn’t have a Speed, this car will explode if we go under 50 miles per hour, sort of vibe any more. They were even allowed to stop, fully stop, for a few hours nap.

       Keith and Lance had taken the sunrise shift, getting them through alive and well into the next day. Honestly, the two of them had been getting along suspiciously well the past day. Pidge and Hunk were cautious to trust the seeming peace. That being said, whatever bonding moment had happened, neither were going to complain about it.

       Keith had shaken them both awake before heading into the little convenience store with Hunk.  Pidge was set to the drowsy task of filling up the car after muttering her drink order to Keith, who was on snack duty. Hunk was allowed 5 minutes to give himself a sink bath, because apparently he was still feeling sticky from their failed attempt at creating a megastraw. It had been a bold  proposal to solve the cupholder dilemma for the front seat. It had failed miserably, but that was all part of the creative process.

Pidge practically crawled out of the car, stuffing her feet half in her shoes, the heels crunched down from months of stomping them on. She swiped Keith’s card and started filling the tank.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out in the otherwise abandoned refueling station as she realized what was happening.

“Guys… GUYS!” her voice rose, a franticness rising with it.

Lance was the first to react, flinging the door open and rolling out of the car. He barely landed on his feet, but snapped up right. “What? What is it?” he said with a sway and wide eyes. He looked shockingly ready to actually fight someone. It was sort of endearing from the goofball, but more important things were happening.

“Look,” she whispered, reverently.

“Holy cheese,” Lance whispered back. “GUYS!” he shouted, turning his head towards the convenience store but not taking his eyes off their little miracle. He ended up shouting directly into Keith’s face as he skittered into view, hand around his back to where they all knew he had his knife stored.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sharp and intense. Lance just pointed and Keith blinked, confused.

“Oh, wow… it’s perfect,” Keith commented lightly, hands dropping to his side.

“I’m going to go pee,” Pidge said triumphantly. Her hand left the pump, but it kept going, chugging along at a slow, steady rate without her assistance.  Lance lifted an elbow to lean it on Keith’s shoulder, a light tired smile on his face as they watched the numbers tick by.

Hunk’s shirt was still a little wet as he stepped by Pidge on his way back to the car. He did a double take, surprised to see her shirking her duties when she was the one who’d laid out the schedule.

“What are we staring at,” he asked, noticing the two other teens transfixed, heads tilted the same way. “What was the shouting for?”

“This pump’s freakishly slow,” Lance said.

“But at full speed it’s exactly the rate the tank will fill…” Keith added.

Lance yawned, triggering Keith to yawn.

“Okay, both of you in the back,” Hunk said shaking his head. “You’re clearly losing your minds. Pidge will have to navigate.”

“But it’s beautiful Hunk!” Lance insisted, waving emphatically at the numbers clicking by. Keith gave Hunk a serious look, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah yeah, and if you’d let me just FIX it, we could do this at full speed, at any stations” Hunk said, shoving them into the car. “I’ll get snacks,” he said, grabbing the list from Keith.

“I can get the snacks. I’m not even tired,” Keith protested mildly, but he didn’t fight Hunk for the list. He didn’t even argue when he was shoved into the back of the car. He did manage to mutter, “I’m not even going to fall asleep,” like a petulant child who was minutes away from passing out.

 

Hunk and Pidge returned with an armful of supplies and enough caffeine to perk them both up for their shift. Hunk settled into the driver’s seat and went to buckle up and adjust his mirrors. He caught sight of Lance and Keith in the back seat, both sound asleep, leaning against each other. Keith was tucked forward into himself and Lance sprawled, mouth a little open. Keith would definitely wake up with drool on his shoulder. Given where they were a week ago, Hunk thought this might be the real miracle of the morning.

Hunk started to pull out of the refueling station and paused before he turned back onto the road. He looked around at the abandoned streets and the big empty parking lot down the way.

“Hey Pidge,” he said.

“Hmm?” she hummed back. She was mixing two highly caffeinated beverages half and half in a Mega Glug cup she’d been using for days. It was probably growing something by now, but Hunk did his best not to think about it.

“You wanna learn how to drive?”

Pidge lidded her cup and raised an eyebrow looking to the back seat. “While the peanut gallery is sleeping?”

“That’s the idea.” Hunk was surprised that Pidge hesitated at all. Then she pulled the lid back off her concoction and chugged half of it.

“All right! Let’s do this,” she half shouted. The back seat didn’t stir in the slightest.

Hunk drove them over to the abandoned parking lot down the street and traded places with Pidge. As she adjusted and fiddled with everything he asked, “can you even reach the pedals?”

There was a pause.

“… You are so lucky I know you are legitimately concerned if I can reach the pedals. If you were anyone else I would obliterate you.” Hunk laughed.

Once she was settled, he tried to give her a crash course. The whole thing probably would have gone smoother if the crabby old car wasn’t a stick, and wasn’t just generally horrible. It was probably the worst thing to teach someone to drive with. There were too many variables. Pidge usually was good with variables, but that was in theory. Apparently, all that brain power went out the window translating it to her hands and feet. Hunk got the distinct impression Pidge was a horrible dancer.

Despite Hunk’s best efforts Pidge’s attempts were a haulting, stuttering mess. He tried to keep the cringe off his face. Luckily she was too focused on the car to give him so much as a glance. He was on the brink of trying to politely plead for the car’s well being. The words, ‘please stop, she’s so old, you’re killing her,’ were about to leave his lips when he spotted a cop car in his periphery.

“Oop, police,” he noted. 

It would probably be best if they weren’t stopped, particularly with Pidge in the driver’s seat, and in this bizarre car, and in case Pidge’s hack job hadn’t gone as planned and they were fugitives. Okay, fugitives might be a bit of an over statement, but it felt like they were on the run. Then there was the strange device in the back seat, which might just look like a bomb to the untrained eye. It was pretty dang suspicious either way. He was halfway through this thought when Pidge slammed on the accelerator.

“Holy hell Pidge!”

In a tire screeching maneuver she deftly took them out of the parking lot, onto the road, and straight to the highway, shifting gears without any horrible grinding. She did hit a curb, but otherwise it was shockingly flawless execution.

Hunk looked back and was surprised that no one was following them. No sirens, no flashing lights. Instead he just saw that the sharp turn rolled Lance further onto Keith. He grumbled and almost looked like he might wake up, but instead just adjusted his seat belt and shifted to get cozy on his new Keith Pillow. Keith remained unmoved, arms crossed, head down, dead asleep.

Pidge was doing a decent job after her panic induced enlightenment, and Hunk made sure to tell her so, but he still thought it would be best for them all if he took over. Pidge agreed instantly, apparently not quite as ‘consequences be damned’ as she liked to make herself out to be. They switched, but Pidge spent the rest of the next couple hours talking about what a great get-away driver she would be.

 

They continued on without much incident, aside from the blinkers deciding to up and stop working a few hours later. Keith, having just woken up, shouted for the panicking Hunk to “tap the hazards”. He’d warned them that the turn signals sometimes stopped working, but this had been the first time it had happened when anyone except Keith was driving. Hunk pressed the hazards button, figuring that was a good call if he couldn’t indicate his turn either way.

“No,” Keith said, tossing the still sleeping Lance aside to unbuckle and reach up to the front. He started rapidly tapping at the hazard button, not fully pressing it. After a few moments the ticking of the turn signal started up. Keith sat back with a satisfied nod.

“What the hell, why does that work?” Pidge asked, glancing at Hunk. He didn’t know much about antiques, but he put this on his list of mysteries that needed solving.

Despite the car’s best efforts, though, they were making good time. Such good time that Keith relented and allowed for a few roadside attractions, so long as it didn’t involve a tour. It was through these odd pit stops that Steggarious gained a few new friends, including a puffball with googly eyes, a strange little green man, and a neon pink bedazzled ‘K’. Keith didn’t comment on the accumulation of oddities hanging off his keys. Over all he almost seemed in good spirits, which was saying something for Keith.

Unfortunately, the near smiles didn’t stick around. The closer they got to Keith’s hometown, the grimmer he became. It wasn’t clear if it had to do with the nearing destination, or  the rapidly deteriorating condition of the car.

The ancient thing had never sounded  _ good _ , but in the last hour of their trip it had taken on a distinct sort of death rattle. The AC, which used to run on either of the two higher settings, now only ran on the top most. The crack in the windshield, previously a little curve in the corner of the passenger side, had branched out in a sharp break upwards and then to the right. Most notably, though, was a prominent, repeating thudding noise that had started up and was only getting worse. It was loud enough now that it rose above all the other whining complaints of the car. 

“Okay, fine, I’ll be the one to ask it” Lance said, “What the hell is that noise?”

“Wheels gonna fall off,” Hunk said matter-of-factly.

“No it's not,” Keith replied with just as much certainty.

“You should pull over and let me fix it” Hunk stated. It wasn’t a question, simply a fact. Keith  _ should _ pull over and  _ should _ let him fix the car. 

“We’re only 10 minutes out from town. It’ll be fine until we get there,” Keith said.

“We're not going to make it another 10 minutes,” he replied.

“It’s been making that noise for an hour,” Keith argued, “It’ll be able to make it another 10, right?” he asked, frowning into the rearview mirror at him.

“I've had quite a few days to get used to the death wails of this car,” he replied, “And it's my job to know when something's about to go critically wrong in a vehicle.”

Keith was silent for a moment, Hunk’s skills as a mechanic being seriously considered. “It’s not that much further, we’ll make it,” he decided.

Hunk didn’t argue further. Lance looked at him, concerned by this development. Hunk could complain endlessly when he wanted to do a minor tune up or cool, unnecessary improvement. It was when he stopped complaining that it meant he was serious.

“Are we sure we can’t just pull over and take a look?” Lance asked.

“No,” Keith replied bluntly.

“If we've made it this far we can make it a few more miles,” Pidge said in a reasonable voice, trying to get Hunk to look less dour. It didn't work. He just shrugged and made sure he was buckled up. Lance and Pidge checked their seatbelts, following Hunk’s lead. They all hoped that the car’s ancient safety features wouldn’t be put to the test, but better safe than sorry.

 

Despite Hunk’s general grumpiness, 9 minutes had passed and they hadn’t broken down. Keith had taken over driving a while ago, ignoring the rotation. He knew these roads. He didn't need GPS to guide them the final stretch.

Grentsville was a small town, a little too far off the highway to make it even a likely pitstop. The houses were spread out allowing breathing room between neighbors. He remembered the claustrophobia of visiting the next town over with it’s neatly plotted suburban neighborhood. House after house after house, he wondered how they could deal with so little privacy. At least with cities you knew what you were getting into, the tightly packed houses felt like they were pretending to be something they weren’t.

He drove the twists and turns down increasingly gravelly roads by muscle memory. He didn’t need to think about the turns. He’d walked them, biked them, driven them, and even ridden a horse down them. Well, part way on the horse. Sugar had never liked him and had made that point clear at the dented stop sign they passed. Keith wondered if he still had the scar on his leg. It had never healed quite right, staying an almost purplish color for years after.

He could have driven these roads blindfolded, and he almost wanted to. It had been over a year since he’d come back, and the sights made his chest tighten, because despite all the familiarity it wasn’t the same. He hadn’t seen the little town since it’d changed, since it stopped being his home. Not that the Garrison felt like his home either, but at least it wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be. It wasn’t pretending to be something it wasn’t.

Keith made the last turn that would take him onto the street he grew up on. He knew every bit of this place, right down to the sound of gravel scattered at the corner crunching under his tires. Then, in a moment, the familiar view was turned on its side, off-kilter like someone had decided the moment needed a dutch angle.

The front corner of the car dropped. A sickening metal scraping noise filled the quiet morning as the car attempted to keep turning, but one of it’s wheels decided it preferred its forward trajectory. The car ground to a stop mid turn. They watched the front passenger wheel roll straight through to the backyard of the house on the opposite side of the corner. It rolled until it bumped up gently against a bird feeder and toppled over. A stunned silence overtook the car as they sat there, half a street away from their destination, staring out a tilted windshield.

Hunk broke the silence.

“I told you,” he said with the utmost calmness. Keith was still too stunned to reply, but the other two roadtrippers burst out laughing.

Keith put a hand to his face, pushing it up and through his hair before he finally agreed, “Guess you were right. We didn’t make it.”

He let out a single laugh before shoving his door open to inspect the damages. The rest followed suit, an excited clamour of noise as Hunk and Pidge discussed what had happened. The wheel was retrieved while Keith stood and listened to the two discuss the finally, truly and completely undrivable car.

“What if that had happened on the highway?” asked the wheel fetcher as he rolled the thing back over. He sounded almost excited, though he pretended to be indignant at the danger he’d been put in. 

“We would have all died!” Pidge shouted back, but also with a smile.

“I told you all,” Hunk informed, slightly more serious.

“Yes, yes you did.” The tire rolled past the three of them and hit the car lightly before it was held steady with a foot. “But you spent half the road trip talking about how we were gonna die, man. How were we supposed to know you meant it this time?”

Before a real argument could start up between the roommates, a voice came from the house behind them.

“My goodness, Keith, sweetie? Is that you making a ruckus?” called an old woman from the front door. Keith would have known her voice anywhere, hell he knew the sound of her porch door creaking open, and he wished he didn’t dread seeing her.

Keith closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath before turning around. The rest of the road trip squad stood, frozen and unclear if they’d been caught. They didn’t know why Keith had been reluctant to go home, so they waited for a signal from him to guide them, breaths collectively held.

The second he saw the old woman just as she had been when he left, the fear melted away. She wasn’t the sort of old woman that allowed for dread in her presence. She was the sort who saw a bunch of kids trampling her petunias and would invite them in for fresh baked pie and hand squeezed lemonade. The sort who was tough as nails and could fend for herself, but was so hospitable they had to come back to help replant new petunias. And she’d be ready with extra trowels waiting for them, knowing they’d come.

“Yes m’am,” he said with a soft sigh. “Didn’t quite make it to the house.” He gave her a sheepish look and could feel the stares of the other 3 teens.

“I can see that,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You darn near took out the bird feeder.” Keith tucked his head down, ashamed to cause her any trouble, but even more so feeling the heavy guilt of having planned to not so much as say hello during his visit.

“Sorry, m’am,” he mumbled, feeling like he was 13 and caught out past curfew. A huff brought his attention back to her and he found her smiling a big eye crinkling smile. The tension dropped out of his shoulders and he smiled back.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce your friends?” she asked. “I texted Harry to send his son over by the by, with the tow truck,” she tagged on. Keith instantly stood up straight.

“Oh you-uh-! He doesn’t-Well-yeah, uh,” he stammered, having no excuse to get out of seeing more people, particularly _ certain _ people, from his hometown.

“Yeah Keith! Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” A voice burst right behind his ear as the lanky teen moved into his personal space. He threw an arm around him to make sure they seemed particularly friendly, to emphasize how much of a travesty it was that he hadn’t been introduced already. Keith felt himself go a little pink. He tried to shrug him off, but Hunk and Pidge had stepped up as well. He sighed.

“Course,” he muttered, then raised his voice to properly introduce the ragtag bunch. “This is Mrs. Jones. Ma’am, these are my teammates from the Garrison.” He heard the word ‘teammates’ whispered in his ear as if it were an offense. He was sure there was a face to match it. “Ahem-- This is Katie-uh… Pidge?” he glanced at her and she looked surprised.

“Pidge, yep! Pidge Holt,” she confirmed, grinning.

“The nav tech on my team,” he continued. “And this is Hunk.” Hunk smiled and took a handshake from the woman. “And this is--,” Keith was nearly shoved aside as he tried to continue, the teen standing at the ready for his introduction. Keith stopped. The slight pink over his face went a few shades brighter. “Uh, well, this is-,” he stammered his mind racing as he realized he had still never gotten a name for his so called rival. He’d had so much time to figure this out, but he’d been so focused on everything else, the minor mission had fallen to the wayside.

“Uh…..” Keith’s wide eyed stare must have conveyed his panic because the old woman’s face went soft.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s fine. I get who this is,” she said, with a sympathetic smile, “Maybe I shouldn’t have called for the Harrison boy then,” she added with a little chuckle.

Keith’s brain was already on overdrive trying to find an excuse for himself, so the comment took a long moment to process before he realized the implications. He cursed every second his tween self had spent pouring his heart out to the only soul that seemed worth trusting. He cursed ever having admitted he thought Carter Harrison from the other side of town was ‘handsome’. He cursed ever having spoken a single word to another living creature in his entire life.

The teen in front of him swung around, looking outraged. Keith’s heart stopped. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly say to explain suddenly being outed by the nice old lady down the street.

“You don’t know my  **_name,_ ** Keith?”

“I-,” Keith was so relieved he was outraged about the name part and hadn’t realized he’d been mistaken for a boyfriend, that he didn’t have words. Mrs. Jones’ comment was apparently not nearly as damning as it had felt to himself.

“You really didn’t even bother to learn my name,  **_Keith_ ** ?” he continued, with heavy emphasis on saying his name. Keith’s mind raced.

“...Taylor?” he tried.

“Taylor!?”

“Oh… sweetie… how recently did you two start dating?” Mrs. Jones asked, concern lacing her voice.

“It’s  **Lance** , how do you--,” Lance’s head snapped around at the comment. “How recently did we what?!” he cried, voice cracking. Keith winced.

“Don’t worry, you won’t run into any trouble around here. We’re used to all kinds,” she said soothingly.

“Hold on just a second here!” Lance shouted, but it was drowned out by a chorus of laughter bursting out behind him. The other two were nearly crying. Pidge was gesticulating wildly, trying to find a way to express how priceless this moment was. Hunk was using the car to support himself as he wheezed.

“No! He’s just a-! We just go to the academy together!” Keith burst. If he could sink into the Earth, right to the core, and just cease to exist entirely in that moment, he would have. He had prepared himself for so many things coming back to his hometown, but this was  _ not _ one of them. “I’m not  _ dating _ him.”

Lance turned sharply on him. “Don’t say it like that,” he snipped. Keith blinked, caught off guard. “It would be an  _ honor _ to date me. I’m a  _ catch _ !”

“I-what? I never-”

“Anyone would be lucky to date me! Right Hunk?” he asked, hands on hips, staring past Keith to where Hunk tried to collect himself enough to be a good best friend.

Hunk forced a serious expression. “Sure,” he agreed.

“See?!” Lance threw his arms dramatically towards his friend. “I’m dreamy!”

“I never said y-” Keith tried to defend himself again.

“Yeah! He’s dreamy _ Keith _ !” Pidge echoed, her grin still splitting her face, though it seemed like she could breathe again. He shot a glare at her, but apparently blushing and glaring was not very intimidating, because Pidge broke out into laughter again.

“I can’t believe you thought my name was Taylor!” Lance huffed. Relief washed over Keith when the subject changed back to the slightly less mortifying topic of his horrible social skills rather than his romantic life, or lack thereof.

“It’s probably that sewing joke you keep trying to make work,” Hunk suggested, somewhat recovered.

“Oh! Yeah! That really bad sewing thing you say,” Pidge agreed.

“That is a great joke!” Lance insisted, defensively.

“No, it’s really not, Lance,” Hunk said apologetically.

_ Lance _ .

Well, Keith wouldn’t be forgetting his name now, at least. This moment would be seared into his memory for all eternity and probably into the next life. He stayed quiet, letting the other 3 divert their energies to questioning Lance’s sense of humor, instead of focusing on him.

He looked over to Mrs. Jones, who had put on her own sheepish smile. She waved him over and he stepped away from the others. He wished he could be mad at her, but he really should have found out his name before now. He sighed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to put ya in the hot seat there,” she said.

“Not really your fault. Shoulda known how to introduce my friends,” he muttered back.

“Sorry about the rest,” she clarified.

“Ah… yeah uh no we’re fine, it’s fine,” Keith’s mutter had transformed into a full blown mumble. She smiled a little.

“So it’s all right I called over Carter Harrison?” she asked, a light tease to her voice. Keith, who thought his cheeks might have just about recovered to a light pink hue, was back to cherry red in a second.

“I never should have told you that.”. She laughed and despite himself Keith smiled. The fight seemed to be dying down behind them. She reached up to pat his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re home. I kept everything in order for you over there, what all he said to keep in order that is,” she assured. Keith swallowed and nodded.

“You shouldn’t have had to…” he trailed off.

“Oh, I already had a spare key and wasn’t ‘bout to let things get dusty while you were busy,” she said, brushing off his concern.

Busy.

“Thanks.”

She patted his cheek a little harder for good measure before letting her hand drop.

“And would you look at that,” she said, smiling as the noise of heavy tires on gravel reached them. “That might just be a record for getting across town. Guess I’m not the only one happy to have you back round these parts.” She gave Keith a knowing look and Keith wanted to sink into the earth again.

He hadn’t seen the guy since he left for the Garrison nearly 4 years ago. It wasn’t like he still had a crush. He didn’t even know him anymore. Unfortunately, the sentiment didn’t go both ways. Carter hopped out of the tow truck and spotted Keith instantly, letting a completely too friendly smile spread over his lips. He’d grown up to be just as handsome as Keith had thought he was in the 8th grade, unfortunately.

“Been a while!” he called, walking right up to him and reaching out for a handshake. His other hand ended up on the other side of Keith’s, making it feel like a reunion of good friends rather than middle schoolers who happened to be in the same homeroom.

“Uh...yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. He focused on Carter, if for no other reason to avoid looking at Mrs. Jones, who was like a grandmother to him… a meddling grandmother who wanted all her grandkids settled down with a ‘nice country boy’. Carter finally let go to look at the three wheeled wreck.

“Car troubles huh? Boy, but look at that? What sort of antique you got there?” He laughed. “Did you actually drive that thing all the way out here?” he asked. Keith prickled a little at that. Even with the obvious evidence it was by no means up to the job, he still felt protective.

“We did,” he said.

“Ha! You were always braver than I was. Hear you’ve been doing well up there at the academy,” he commented.

“Heard from who?” He certainly hadn’t been telling anyone back here about how he was doing, and the last year or so there hadn’t been anyone around to brag about him.

“Guess I’m just assuming. Seems right that you’d be doing important things and flying spaceships and all that,” he said. He was so friendly, Keith didn’t know how to return the sentiment. Carter raised an eyebrow as the rest of the cadets cluttered in.

“Ah, these are friends from the Garrison.” He thought better of using ‘teammates’ again. “Hunk, Pidge, and Lance,” he said, gesturing to each in turn. “Guys, this is Carter.”

They did the necessary pleasantries, but Lance, being Lance, made a todo of introducing himself. Carter seemed amused, and was happy to oblige him in some good old fashioned small talk. This gave Pidge the chance to make some meaningful eye contact with Keith. She discreetly gestured back to the strange looking contraption they still had in the back of the car. Keith nodded seriously.

It didn’t take long to get Hunk in a riveting conversation about the intricacies of a good pie crust with Mrs. Jones, while doubling as a human wall. Keith and Pidge, quiet and easy to miss when Hunk or Lance were dominating a conversation, were then able to swap the contents of the trunk for the signal detector.

Keith wasn’t sure why Pidge wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe Pidge just understood there shouldn’t be extra eyes poking around his childhood home until they’d finished their investigation. Or maybe she was just protective of her tech. Either way, he was thankful. She didn’t even bat an eye when the trunk nearly closed on her head in their rush. The mission was more important.

 

When they got back Hunk and Mrs. Jones had moved on to fillings, and Lance was going on about the summer he’d spent working on a farm and the animals he’d bonded with. He had Carter grinning ear to ear as he explained a story about a cow that had become a dear friend.

"I still miss Kattlnecker. She was a good old girl,” he said wistfully. “But how about you. You look like you could one hand a bale of hay into a loft” A dazzling grin pulled onto his face just as Keith and Pidge quietly settled back into place in the conversation. Pidge raised an eyebrow and looked at Keith who frowned a bit.

“Well-,” Carter started with a laugh.

“We just need to get her up to the driveway,” Keith interrupted. Carter blinked, surprised to hear Keith at all. He pushed himself off the fence post he’d been leaning on and nodded.

“You know, I could just as easily take ya back to the garage and fix you up,” he offered, glancing at the car. “Probably…” he added, as a disclaimer.

“We have a mechanic,” Pidge piped up quickly, before Hunk could catch wind of someone else trying to steal the job he’d been denied.

“That what your studying at the Garrison, miss?” he asked, pleasantly.

“No, it’s that one over there talking about the best way to make preserves,” she explained.

“Hunk can fix anything,” Lance informed, “Sorry.” He gave an exaggerated apologetic face, as if not having to get their car dragged across town and sit around waiting for it to get fixed was a travesty.

“No sorry about it,” Carter replied, heading back towards his truck, “Just give me a call if you all need anything.” He looked to Keith. “Still got my number?”

“Uh… no,” Keith admitted. He had the pension for breaking phones and not enough in his contacts to bother transferring the information. Lance had his phone out in a flash.

“Here, give me yours and then I can text you if we need anything,” he said. Carter didn’t hesitate to give him his number. A moment later, his pocket vibrated with a text. 

“So, you’re one of those sorts that texts in hieroglyphics I see,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Emojis are a completely valid form of communication. And I get my point across, right?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” he said with a shrug and a smile. He went to hook up the car, Hunk and Pidge trailing along behind him, one to look after the well being of the car an the other to double check no evidence of the signal detector had been left behind. Keith was left with Lance and frowned at him once Carter was out of earshot.

“Will you stop,” he said, quietly.

“Stop what?” Lance asked, sounding a little too delighted to be innocent.

“I  _ get _ it,” Keith said, not even sure what he was accusing Lance of doing. It seemed like he was trying to tease him whichever way he looked at it, though.

“Get what?” he asked.

“Just cut it out,” he snipped. He didn’t like being made fun of. He wasn’t sure if this was because Mrs. Jones had announced his middle school crush, or if Lance was making sure everyone in town would know his name since Keith hadn’t. Whatever it was, it felt like it was to spite him.

"Just because I got further with your hometown crush in 5 minutes than you did in all your tween pining doesn't mean you get to be jealous,” Lance said smugly. Keith stared and Lance had the gall to  _ wink. _

“I don’t-” Keith stopped, frown deepening. “Nevermind, do whatever you want. I have more important things to figure out.” He forced his voice to be even. Keith turned away, ignoring Lance’s snickering behind him, and started stomping down the road.

His stomach plummeted seeing the house a short walk away. He’d avoided looking at it as best as he could until that moment. His stomp slowed to a near stop, which gave Lance time enough to catch up to him

 “Hold your horses, cowboy,” he called. He threw an arm around Keith’s shoulders catching him in his half jog and forcing his feet forward. Keith didn’t even care about the teasing anymore. He’d needed that push. His feet started working again, matching Lance’s pace.

“Thanks for the help!” Lance called over his shoulder to Mrs. Jones. “We’ll come back for some of that pie before we go, all right?” He got a pleasant “you all better” in response. Lance then turned his attention back to Keith.

“I was just being friendly,” he insisted as they walked. “You know, like how people smile and say pleasant things when they meet new people?”

Keith glanced at him, expression grim.

“Well, okay, so that’s a thing normal people do,” he explained. “No wonder you scared off the truckstop babe.” He ‘tsk’ed as they continued down the side of the road. The tow truck passed, kicking up dust. Pidge and Hunk had snagged a ride with Carter the short distance down the road. Keith was glad for the few extra moments to collect himself.

 

By the time they got to the driveway, Carter seemed fairly satisfied, after meeting Hunk, that the ancient car was in good hands. He shook Hunk and Pidge’s hands before turning towards the tow truck again.

“Oh,” Keith said, following him around to the far side of the truck. He pulled out his wallet to find some cash to give him. Carter put up a hand.

“Nah, don’t worry bout it,” he said. At the frown he received from Keith, he laughed and waved him off, getting into the truck. “You have that friend of yours give me a text if you need something, all right?” he said. Then added, “And have him text you my number, in case you need it.” 

Keith considered explaining that he was pretty sure Hunk’s pride wouldn’t allow them to call in backup. Or that Lance didn’t even have his number to pass the information along via text. That all sounded a bit too complicated so he just nodded and said ‘thanks’.

Carter hesitated before starting up the truck. “And you know…” he looked to Keith through the open window, “I’m sorry, and all that.” Keith stared and Carter fidgeted, regret to have said anything growing on his face. “I d-”

“Thanks,” Keith cut in. Carter let out a breath, relief painted over his expression.

“So, I’ll see you around,” he said. They exchanged nods and Carter left with one last friendly smile.

 

Keith turned around once the truck was gone. Hunk was already jacking up the car, and Pidge was rolling the tire out of the back. Lance was waiting on orders and pretending he hadn’t been attempting to eavesdrop moments before.Keith looked at the house he grew up in and took a deep breath. He’d come all this way, he was going to get some things settled once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : A few explanations and a lot more questions.
> 
> I didn't mean for both of these flirting scenes to be in the same chapter, but I guess in my heart of hearts I really needed to establish bi Lance and _utterly_ romantically useless Keith, huh? lmao


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is on a mission... to find embarrassing baby photos of Keith!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some crazy weeks recently @___@ and sort of restructured these next couple chapters from my original outline, but finally I got this chapter making sense again! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Also, thank you all for your comments and kudos! They give me life <3 !!!

* * *

 

**Excerpt from: Log date (local): 06.12.20XX**

_“ [...] My mission has changed. It is here in my arms. And I will do whatever it takes to protect it.”_

 

* * *

  

####  **Chapter 9**

 

 

        “So… do you want the number?”

        Keith dragged himself back up from the depths to focus on the question. It still didn’t make sense.

        “The what?” He turned to Lance.

        “Do you want me to give you Carter’s number?” he asked, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d been eavesdropping on their conversation.

        “Oh.” He shook his head. He had too many other things on his mind; he’d already forgotten about Carter’s suggestion that he might need his number. “No. I don’t care.” His voice was even. He had to keep it calm because if he let any emotion creep into it, he was afraid everything else would come up with it.  He had to keep himself steady as he prepared to take a step that he hadn’t planned taking ever again.

        “What?! What do you mean you don’t care?” Lance’s voice cut above the anxious static buzzing through his head. He turned back to Lance and stared, confused by the ferocity in his response.

        “If the hot biker babe wasn’t good enough for you,” he started, his hands flying around to emphasize his frustration, “and that incredibly charming country boy wasn’t good enough either…” He paused dramatically to throw out his hands and give a wide eyed stare. “Who _does_ have a shot with you?”

        “I didn’t even know that girl at the refueling station was hitting on me…” Keith offered, with a slim hope that it’d be enough to end the conversation. It wasn’t, of course, not with Lance.

        “ _How_?” he asked, but raised a single hand between them, stopping him from actually answering. Keith didn’t have an answer to give, so it was for the best. “But you know Carter’s into you, right?”

        Keith was silent for a long moment. Carter was just like that. He’d been nice to Lance too. He’d smiled at Hunk. It was his nature.

        “Keeeeith! He was!” Lance informed in an exasperated whine.

        Keith didn’t see any good in arguing with Lance about it. For all he knew, maybe Carter had been flirting with him. It didn’t really make a difference.  What could he be to Carter or that girl? He wasn’t “fun” or “charming”. He didn’t want to ‘go out’. He didn’t have time for that, and that was the crux of it. He had too much going on. Even if he had been interested, no one needed to deal with all of Keith’s--well, Keith didn’t even know what it was. Whatever was hiding in this old house, whatever drove him out of comfortably living a normal life despite how very _, very_ hard Shiro worked to give it to him. They didn’t need to deal with Keith, and Keith didn’t want to deal with them.

        Lance, realizing he wasn’t going to get anything but silence in response, sighed dramatically. He finished off his wild gesticulating by throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I don’t see why you were so reluctant to come back here. Everyone seems to love you.” He spoke it like it was an insult. Or at least an insult to him that so many people would like Keith.

        “Not everyone likes me,” Keith replied, thoughtlessly. He should be closing the conversation, not giving it ammunition. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about, well, second to last thing. Maybe third. Still, he didn’t want to talk at all. He found, more and more though, he just couldn’t shut up, not when it came to Lance. The guy always somehow managed to have the wrong ideas about him, and something made him want to make sure Lance _understood_.

        “Oh yeah?” Lance asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I got 2 for 2 saying they do.”

        “Not everyone liked my family,” he said. Lance opened his mouth to argue and Keith wasn’t having that. He went on before Lance could say anything stupid.

        “You wanna know why I had a crush on Carter in the _8th grade_?” He emphasized that last bit, reminding Lance of how old this whole subject was. “It was because he’d been the only kid in my grade that was allowed to come over when I was growing up.”

        Lance stared for a long moment before asking, “Why?”

        “Because not everyone around here liked my family,” he repeated, his voice weighed down like bricks.

        “Why?” he asked again, a little softer, but not willing to back down without an answer.

        “I don’t _know_ ,” he let out in a tight breath, then took another in calmer. “We were just different. The closer neighbors were nice, Mrs. Jones mostly. Some of the houses I could walk to. But the kids at school? The people on the other side of town or a town over?” he shook his head.

        “So, you didn’t want to come back because of them?” Lance asked, voice tentative. He seemed afraid of pressing too hard, like Keith was a wild animal he might spook.

        “No.” Keith replied certainly. “I don’t care what those people think of me.” He meant it. The neighbors, good or bad, hadn’t been what kept him away.

        He started walking towards the house before Lance could think of any other questions. He paused in front of the porch steps. His feet stuck again and his jaw tightened in frustration.

        “Alright then, Mr. I-Don’t-Care,” Lance said, his voice suddenly casual and jaunty. Keith was surprised how nice it was to hear. He didn’t want pity, he never did. He didn’t tell anyone about these things because the idea of people talking softly about him behind his back, saying how sorry they felt for him, made his skin crawl. Lance’s tone was none of that. He accepted the new information and moved on, literally. Lance hopped past him and up the stairs as if it were easy.

        “Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be in a rush?” he asked, looking back at him.

        “Yeah…” Keith placed a foot on the first step and waited for his feet to stick again.

        “Come on,” Lance said, with a careless wave as he walked to the door. Keith followed and it felt… ok.

        He stopped before opening the door. “You guys need anything,” he called back to Hunk and Pidge in the driveway.

        “Yeah,” Hunk shouted back. “What tools do you have laying around? I need to rethread this, most of the bolts are still in here. I’ll need a few new lug nuts and bolts, too. And a lemonade would be good,” he listed off.

        “I bet Mrs. Jones makes killer lemonade!” Pidge said, excitedly.

        “Oh yeah. I am 100% certain she makes a killer lemonade,” Hunk agreed seriously.

        “There’s a shed around back. I can get you the key, come on,” Keith said, waving them all to follow.  He unlocked the door, which included the knob and three deadbolts. He pulled the door backwards a bit to turn the top most lock. It tended to stick, but they’d never fixed it. It was nearly impossible to turn without tugging it and that seemed a comfort more than a hassle.

        “Someone’s a little paranoid,” Lance noted. Keith grunted noncommittally.

 

        He pushed the door open and they stepped into the dark house. The light filtered in through the cracks in the drawn curtains, illuminating a sliver of dusty particles that took flight, disturbed by their entrance. It made the afternoon light look dreary and dull. Even more dreary since a good portion of the furniture was covered in sheets, mostly white, but some with old faded floral patterns looking too old to be used for proper bedding anymore.

        “Did your family move out or…?” Lance started, trailing off. That didn’t really explain the house’s condition.

        “No.” Keith didn’t even flinch.

        “Oh…” the other three muttered behind him.

        He didn’t try for the light switch. Instead, he stepped out of the entrance and walked to the nearest window. The heavy curtains were flung aside, flinging up dust, but he left the sheers in place. He then continued through the living room, stepping around the ghostly furniture, on his way to the kitchen.

        “Okay. Yeah! Right!” Lance said, with exaggerated cheer to help continue on through the dim house. The three guests quickly followed, side stepping the covered furniture. They glanced at each other, but Keith didn’t seem troubled by any of this, so they figured they weren’t supposed to be either.

        Keith didn’t bother opening the kitchen windows. The curtains were more for decoration than privacy here. The light wouldn’t have been needed either way, his movements ingrained. He pulled a key out of a drawer and tossed it back to Pidge, who squeaked and barely caught it as it flew towards her face. He’d taken to throwing everything at her face. She never caught anything otherwise. The imminent fear of something smashing into her nose or poking out an eye seemed to be necessary motivation.

        “There’s a shed out back. Should have anything you could want, other than maybe the bolts specific to an old sedan,” he said. “And the generators back there, if you want to see if you can start it up. Then we can get some light in here once it gets dark.”

        A collective shiver ran up the other three’s spine at the idea of spending the night in the house. It was clear now that the family hadn’t moved out. Dishes were stacked away, a towel with a crocheted top still hung off the handle of a cabinet above the sink. Everything had just been left, neatly in its place, waiting. And by the looks of the dust accumulation, it had been waiting for a while. The lack of explanation made it more ominous that it had any right to be.

        “And get the scanner in here and see if you guys can pick up anything weird going on inside,” Keith added. He looked back at them expectantly.

        “Right!” Hunk said after a delay. He urged Pidge towards the back door.

        “Yessir,” she said as she was shoved. They unlocked the backdoor, which had as many locks as the front.  It seemed incongruous with the quaint paisley floral curtains that decorated the little window on the door. They headed towards the large shed a little ways out into the dried out back yard.

        “What should I do?” Lance asked, a little jealous at the others getting to go back into the daylight.

        “I don’t know where things might be hidden. Some of the floorboards are loose though,” he said, creaking one under his foot. “I know I used to hide stuff under them back when I was a kid. Try feeling around,” he suggested, thoughtfully. “I’m heading upstairs.”

        “Aye aye captain!” Lance chimed back, over enthusiastic, mostly to ignore the horror movie vibes of the situation.

 

        They split up and Lance started peeking around. He was honestly surprised Keith had left them all unsupervised. He wasn’t sure if he rusted them or he really just didn’t know the amount of damage Pidge could do in 10 minutes left alone. Either way, Lance wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to do a little snooping. Keith had been allowed too much mysterious cool guy vibes for too long. He at least needed something to make him feel more human.

        He did toe at some floorboards, managing to find a few that wiggled enough to investigate. He was surprised when he managed to actually shimmy one up. It didn’t seem like he should just be able to pry the floor apart. He half expected to find a skeleton waiting for him under the house. The dark Kogane secret of cannibalism finally revealed! And the innocent school friends who came to visit on spring break would be next!

        The house really begged to be the beginning of something spooky. It was almost a shame that he only found dust, cobwebs, and a mouse that had become so bold it stared Lance down until he put the floorboard back in place. The only exciting find was Keith’s childhood treasure trove. It had a shoebox filled with a good 5 dollars worth of nickels in a sock, a single trading card so water damaged Lance couldn’t even tease him for whatever cards he collected as a kid, and a transforming toy that turned from a wolf into a robot.

        It was a good hour or so into his floorboard jimmying and snooping that the horror movie vibes finally came to a fever pitch. It happened just as he had a hand stuck into the unknown, only able to pull this board up a few inches on one side. He was expecting to come back covered in spider webs at worst, but instead he nearly dropped the floorboard, nails still hanging out the bottom, onto his arm.

        He’d gotten used to the fading light of the afternoon. He’d barely noticed how dark it was until, half trapped in the floor, the bulbs around him flickered. An eerie buzzing filled the room before half the lights in the house came to life, unprompted around him. Then it was dark again. Then light. For a moment Lance was certain he was about to be the first to die in a teen slasher movie.

        Once he’d gotten his arm free, and the lights settled on either being on or off, he felt a little better. With good lighting, the place went from creepy to downright quaint, right down to doilies on side tables and rooster decor littered around the kitchen no longer casting ominous shadows.

        He continued his search for a bit longer but poking floorboards was a bit boring, at least doing it alone was. He could hear Pidge and Hunk outside chatting away. He liked Pidge. She was a badass for sure. But sometimes he wanted to drag Hunk around to do boring things with him instead of nerd wish fulfilment things with Pidge. That, or Hunk was off being responsible and tutoring underclassmen, or working on preparing for the internship he had over the summer, or worrying about the acceptance letters he was waiting for, that he would definitely get because he was Hunk. Lance just wanted a little bit longer before all _that_. Even four years of non-stop Hunk access (during the school year) hadn’t been enough.

        Lance sighed and found a yellowed sheet striped with little rosettes in the shape of a couch and plopped himself down. The floorboards creaked under it, but he didn’t have the energy to move the couch and investigate. He wondered if they should have grabbed something to eat on the way into town. He somehow didn’t imagine there’d be anything in the fridge.

 

        Lance didn’t realize he’d started to drift off until a clattering and soft cursing from upstairs startled him back to full consciousness.

        “You need help up there?” Lance called through a yawn. He was apparently not loud enough because he didn’t get any response.

        He hauled himself up and started heading upstairs, but not with any urgency. He was too nosey to rush through Keith’s childhood home. There were too many sheets to lift on the way up and knick knacks to poke at. There weren’t many photos, which was a shame. If he’d driven thousands of miles to get here, he should at least get embarrassing baby pictures of Keith to mention at inopportune moments.

        He wasn’t sure what those inopportune moments would be, though, after their talk. If Keith didn’t want to run off with hot biker babes and didn’t melt at the charms of buff country boys, was there anyone that would be worth embarrassing him in front of? If nothing else, _Lance_ needed to have seen embarrassing photos of Keith, for his own piece of mind.

        The walls held simple prints and paintings. Most fit right into the rural house, like they’d come with the place when the little old lady who owned it previously decided she ‘needed something smaller’. A few stood out, though. They were more surrealist, like landscapes you would see on the cover of a sci-fi novel. They were neat, if a little out of place with the 100 year old wallpaper.

        Lance followed the muffled racket to the room at the end of the hallway. From a crack in the door he spotted Keith on his knees, shoving something under a bed hurriedly. Lance did the only possible thing he could in that moment; he bust open the door.

        “Hey!”

        Keith’s whole body jolted, his head shooting around, eyes wide. Then he froze, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The stare was honestly comical. Lance’s mouth started to spread into a grin, but it paused when the look on Keith’s face started to shift. Lance couldn’t quite place what changed in his expression but suddenly he didn’t feel like teasing Keith even if his face was stuck in a dumb expression. Something felt off.

        “What-,” he started to ask, but as soon as he spoke the force holding Keith in shocked stillness broke. Keith made a final shove of whatever he had halfway under the bed and shot to his feet. A moment later he was shoving past Lance without so much as an excuse me.

        “What the hell!” Lance snapped as his shoulder hit the door frame with a thud. He spun around.

        He had thought they were past this. He’d thought they didn’t growl and shove each other anymore. He’d _thought_ they were _friends_ . He grabbed Keith’s arm and yanked him back around before he could get far. His mind was already constructing a long winded speech about ‘friendship’ and how he had a thing or two to learn about it if Keith planned on being _his_ friend.

        The speech died on his lips when he saw Keith’s face. He didn’t look angry like Lance had been expecting. He looked frustrated and hurt. His eyes were wide still, refusing to blink because if they did the tears brimming at the edge of them would be forced out.

         “Woah,” was the only thing that managed to dumbly slip out of Lance.

        Keith swore under his breath. His free arm pulled up over his face, wiping his eyes vigorously on his sleeve. He swore again, just as quietly, but more vehemently, the eye drying apparently not going well.

        In a delayed response, Lance’s hand jolted away, like he’d just realized he had his hand on a burner. This wasn’t how he was supposed to see Keith. This wasn’t the Keith that existed in the mythos of the Garrison. He felt like he was invading something personal. 

        Lance struggled to figure out what was the acceptable teenage boy response to this situation as Keith desperately tried to get his eyes to cooperate with social norms. There was a sound from downstairs, Pidge and Hunk’s voices cutting into the tense moment. Keith’s flight instincts returned at the reminder of the other guests. He stepped away, ready to run.

        Lance grabbed his arm again. He didn’t know what he planned to do with it, but he had it now and had to do something. Glancing around, he decided the quickest solution would be the best. He pulled him back into the bedroom they’d just stepped out of, pushing the door closed behind them.

        Keith resisted being pulled around at first, but it seemed on principle rather than with any real conviction. He didn’t have anywhere else he could think to be, so he eventually let himself be dragged wherever Lance saw fit. 

        Lance walked him to the bed and sat him down before sitting down resolutely next to him. Then he waited. Mostly because he had no idea what was going on. He didn’t know where to start asking questions, or comforting him. But also because he felt like Keith needed to make the decision to talk first.

        “I said I wouldn’t cry,” he muttered, voice tight. Lance wasn’t sure how to respond, but the pressing silence that followed cried out to be filled.

        “Look just-” He reached over, tentatively wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders. Lance had never been good at watching people cry. He tended to cry too, but that didn’t seem like it would help the situation. He let Keith’s head rest on his shoulder, pulling him too close to possibly see any tears. It seemed the least he could do to protect Keith’s privacy in some small way. Keith didn’t resist, but his shoulders remained tight under Lance’s grip, cautious of the kindness.

        “What’s wrong?” Lance asked, softly.  It took a moment, but Keith’s shoulders relaxed, a bit. He turned himself into the hug, into Lance, defeated by the security of the tight hold paired with the thumb camingly rubbing over his shoulder. He pressed his forehead into the space where Lance’s neck met his shoulder and breathed out.

        He didn’t answer.

        Lance didn’t ask again. He accepted the silence, but it wasn’t an easy task. Lance tended to fill every quiet moment with chatter. His anxiety pleaded with him to say something, wield a bad joke like a mallet to the awkwardness of the moment. Keith needed time, though. He needed to be the one to talk. So Lance waited.

        “I thought, for just a second—” he was so quiet that if Lance hadn’t been dead set on listening he would have missed it. “I was startled, because I thought I’d been caught by my dad, digging through his shit.” His forehead was still leaning on Lance. He was looking down at his hands folded together, half on Lance’s leg, half on his own. He blinked slowly, to keep his eyes dry.

        Lance made a soft sound, an acknowledgement that he’d heard and was listening. His hand found the back of Keith’s head, keeping him pressed securely into the hug.

        “I haven’t been back here since he died. Mrs. Jones said she’d take care of everything until I graduated and it was… mine I guess. I haven’t been _here_ since he was alive. I don’t think I ever planned to come back at all.”

        “You didn’t even stop by after the funeral?” Lance asked, surprised. He would want his home as a comfort after a loss, not to avoid it. He realized he also thought of his home filled with his family. He couldn’t imagine it without a million chattering voices. The idea of coming back to a silent house didn’t sit well with him.

        “I… didn’t go…” his voice was the smallest yet.

        “What?” Lance didn’t mean to blurt it, but the confession startled him.

        “I didn’t-,” Keith tried to push away, tensing again. Lance tightened his grip for a moment, a reassurance.

        “It’s fine,” he said quickly, making sure there was no judgement in his tone. He lifted his hand, so it was barely holding Keith, freeing him to pull away if he still needed to. Keith left his head on Lance’s shoulder. Lance carefully went on, “Can I ask why?”

        Keith did pull away then. Lance let his hand fall from the back of his hand, but stayed close, in case he needed another hug. Keith’s eyes remained trained on his hands. His brows knit up in a serious expression as he searched for the right way to explain himself.

        “People leave.” There was a long pause. “When people leave they might come back, right?” he asked. He glanced at Lance for just a moment before his eyes returned to his hands. “I only remember my mom as a… presence, something big and protective. I was young when she left, but,” he cleared his throat of the tightness threatening to cut off his voice, “I still feel like I should remember her more than I do. The thing is, when she left, my dad locked away everything about her. He barely even talked about her, so I guess it just… faded. I remember she liked purple, and she had the kindest voice in the world.”

        “Second kindest. After my mama, but go on.”

        Keith stopped dead in his confession to stare at Lance, eyes still rimmed with red. It had been a gambit Lance wasn’t 100% sure on. A meek smile over took his face, just shy of a cringe when Keith caught his eye. Keith coughed out a single laugh. “Sure,” he agreed, eyes trailing back down. “But it didn’t feel like she was _gone_ even if my memory of her was fuzzy. Nothing felt final. It just felt…” he trailed off, thinking again.

        “So, it felt like she might come back,” Lance offered, “So, if you didn’t go to the whole,” he gestured vague circles, “everything with your dad, it felt like…”

        “It felt like he was lost, not gone,” Keith agreed. “Which is stupid on both parts, but it’s always felt like there were so many secrets he didn’t tell me, what was one more?” His voice rose a little, but then he shrugged weakly. He took a deep breath before he reached down under the bed and pulled out a box. Out of it he brought out an old tablet, or at least Lance assumed it was and outdated model since he didn’t recognize it.

        “What’s this?” Lance asked as it was offered to him.

        “A secret.”

        “Do you have to be this dramatic?” Lance asked, as if he had any right to judge anyone for dramatics. He couldn’t help the little quirk to the side of his lip that gave away that he liked it. Keith shrugged and reached over. He unlocked it with a finger and leaned back away, leaving it to Lance.

        The image that lit up on the screen wasn’t in any language Lance had ever seen. It didn’t even look vaguely familiar. It felt alien and sharp, like something they’d make up for a sci-fi movie or a video game. Keith didn’t prompt him further, so he pressed things until something happened. Eventually a text box popped up and Lance was shocked to see it was in englishn rather than the sharp pointy writing.

        A flashing memo appeared: “Auto encryption Mar L.1 applied. Authorization required to override.”. There was no ‘yes’ or ‘cancel’ so Lance simply tapped the screen to accept whatever that meant. It disappeared and he was left a listing of log entries.

        He glanced at Keith, who continued to patiently wait, so Lance started to read.

 

_**Log date 1.023.12.080** _

_While on mission Mar.UN.100892 I joined scouting teams in --- quadrant: location ---.---.---. My sensors picked up readings resembling ---- energy signatures briefly. No indication that scouting team recognized signal. Will investigate further when mission allows._

 

_**Log date 1.023.13.080** _

_Readings are showing distortion and/or masking. I will have to go planet side to investigate further. I have programmed the emergency flight recording signal to indicate engine failure and unsalvageable crash conditions. Protocol allows scouts to forgo physical examination of crashes in cases where no hostile forces are involved. Mission Mar.UN.100892 will be placed on indefinite hold as current undercover identity will be officially listed as deceased._

 

_**Log date 1.023.18.080** _

_Terrestrial assistance was required to remain undetected among --- residents. --- still not located. Indications of possible decoy instead of ---. I am currently tracing the signal._

_**Log date 1.023.34.080** _

_\--- has been a useful associate while on planet and shows discretion and loyalty. He continues to assist in my search for the --- signal source._

_**Log date 1.023.37.080** _

_Device located. --- confirmed not on planet. Signals were created by a fragment of the compound used to create the ---. The fragment was most likely meant as a decoy. It was left with a distortion device placed around it with a universal message denoting the fragment as the ‘heart’ of --- left on this planet._

_Distortion device shows signs of weakening efficiency. I will study the device in an attempt to restabilize the masking effect of the technology left with it. The make is pre-war Altaen. May require technical assistance if safe communication channel can be found._

_The Heart’s location is not far from my terrestrial associate’s birth residence. He continues to offer his assistance._

 

        Lance scrolled through the log, transfixed as he tried to decipher them. The sci-fi paintings on the wall kept coming to mind as he read. Keith reached over and swiped his finger, sending the list shooting down until the tone shifted in the log. He stopped it as the dating format shifted. The logs apparently became longer, only previews showing for each.

 

**_Log date (local): 07.09.20XX_ **

_"I did not plan to fall in love with a place [...]”_

**_Log date(Local): 09.08.20XX_ **

_"I was proud of my solitude. I called it independence. I called it bravery. I don’t know that it was either [...]”_

**_Log date (local): 10.23.20XX_ **

_"It is too fragile. It is too small. I can barely breathe for fear of breaking it.”_

**_Log date (local): 11.12.20XX_ **

"I would not claim to be a philosopher. And even less so would I [...]”

**_Log date (local): 06.03.20XX_ **

_"I was too ashamed to admit this fear in previous entries [...]“_

 

        He picked one to open fully, curiosity winning out over confusion. Keith hadn’t stopped him from reading whatever this was yet. The log he chose was dated over 18 years ago. 

 

**_Log date (local): 11.12.20XX_ **

         _I would not claim to be a philosopher. And even less so would I want to be known as the sort to align myself with the father of moralistic conquest philosophy. I have found myself thinking about ---- more often now, as the mother of something not entirely my own species. ---- may have been killed as a traitor before the end of the first conquest, but so many of his theories remain embedded in our collective psyche thousands of years later._

         _\---- was the first to claim the right to conquer was not only for our own benefit, but the natural order. He used our ability to mother children of species with various hereditary mechanisms with mostly successful outcomes as proof of this. He saw no evolutionary advantage to this trait. To him, the only answer was a guiding force, grander and beyond our understanding. What other invading force could colonize a planet and join into the population, literally? (Of course later we would find we were not alone in the universe with this trait, but it is relatively rare)._

         _After his defamation and death there were claims that he was a pacifist, but his words never condemned war, and often encouraged taking new planets by force. It was the purity movement that destroyed his reputation and eventually led him to be marked as a traitor._

         _I understand now why, despite building their moral imperative around his philosophies, they felt the need to not only kill him, but posthumously destroy his reputation. Holding this child, I can no longer imagine letting this planet be destroyed even if it meant a victory for my cause._

         _My mission has changed. It is here in my arms. And I will do whatever it takes to protect it._

 

        Lance picked another.

 

**_Log date (local): 04.03.20XX_ **

         _I was too ashamed to admit this fear in previous entries. I was certain ---- was afraid of me._

_It is known to happen in these sorts of situations. I am admittedly very scary in comparison to his father. --- may be strong, but like all of this planet's terrestrials, he is over all a soft creature. He has blunted nails soft skin. I am made of sharp claws and, as I have been told when I startle --- at night, the eyes of a nocturnal predator. It is not an entirely unfair assessment. My appearance likely triggers thoughts of danger to ----'s developing brain._

_I_ _n my arms he is never still. Before he could even crawl he was trying to escape my grasp, devolving into tears often as I held him. Then ---- would take him, and he was calm again._

 _This is not entirely an unfortunate thing. I do not know if childcare could have ever been my calling even in a time of peace. And there is something very satisfying about watching ---- fall asleep on his father’s chest, or more specifically, both of them falling asleep together._ _I apologize for ever scoffing, internally or otherwise, at the idea that coming home to a house asleep would bring me such satisfaction. I understand mother, and I hope you may rest easier now that I finally know this truth. Yet, for all the peace this brings me, it is hard to know I cannot be that comfort for him._

 

         _Today, ---- took his first steps. He has been attempting for weeks with the help of ----’s patient coddling and cooing. After the first few steps, he pressed forward on his own. Two more steps and he toppled onto his face. He burst into tears immediately and ---- moved to grab him, but he turned and crawled directly to me. He would not relent until I was the one to pick him up._

         _I may never be the one who he is able to relate to, but I hope I may always be the one he comes to when he falls. If I can give him strength in his time of need, I think I can be satisfied._

 

_Log Edited 04.03.20XX_

 

         _I wonder when ---- will consider allowing him to train with a blade…_

 

        Lance had to stop himself, the thoughts brewing in the back of his skull finally coming out.

        “This was… your mom's?” he asked. It felt silly to say aloud. He wasn’t sure what better explanation there was, unless Keith was having Lance read his weird journal based sci-fi novel he was working on.

        “I think so. Uhm…” Keith paused and put his hand out for the pad. Lance handed it back quickly, feeling the weight of the intimacy he’d just been given access to as he let it go. Keith flicked through the data pad as if he understood the strange symbols. It must have felt intuitive to him. His finger paused, hovering for just a second before he hit the screen and an image appeared. He handed it back to Lance.

        A tall square jawed, solid looking man stood there. He had a rough and tumble vibe about him, with a scar cutting across and eyebrow and day old scruff that he made work. His gruffness made the baby he held look even smaller. At the same time, he looked completely at ease with the tiny dark haired thing swaddled in his arms. That oddness was all over shadowed, because next to him was an equally tall, purple woman, reaching a clawed finger to lovingly caress the infant’s cheek. Her ears were sharp, cutting out of her two toned purple hair. Instead of white, her eyes were an unsettling yellow with deep purple irises. Even her teeth looked sharp. It was a startling sight. She was scary looking, though; intimidating to be sure, but still gorgeous. She looked a lot like Keith in a way.

        “She… really liked purple huh?” Lance asked after far too long of a pause. A wheeze came from Keith, like he’d been punched in the gut.

        “I sure hope so,” Keith said, with surprising levity, breaking into a full guffaw of laughter as he fell back on the bed. His hands went up to his face to wipe away any remnants of tears that had hung around, or new ones from the fits of laughter he was having.

        “So… is your mom a… Was she a…” Lance was almost more freaked out by Keith laying there laughing than he was at the revelation the picture confirmed. “Did the mothership call her back?”

        “God,” Keith finally said, his hands falling from his face. He stared up at the ceiling, calmer. “Yeah, I guess that’s better than, she just left. Right?” he asked.

        “Keith, and this is a serious question,” Lance said. Keith craned his neck to look at him. “Are you going to turn purple?” Keith snorted. “Seriously! I think it’d be a good look for you! It’s a travesty for you right now. You didn’t get your dad’s chiseled jaw or your ma’s pointy ears, claws, OR purple anything?” he asked. “You took the most mundane, _boring_ parts of both of them. You’re gonna need to get some gnarly scars or something to make up for it.”

        “Who says I’m not purple,” he asked.

        “You’re _face_ that’s who,” Lance shot back.

        “Who says it’s my face that’s purple?”

        Lance was silent for a long moment. “I swear to god Keith, if you tell me you have a purple dick--”

        Keith was laughing again. It sat somewhere between genuinely relieved sounding and desperately in need of normalcy. Lance felt like he had a better handle on this situation now. If this is what Keith needed to feel better, laughing and dumb commentary, he could provide ample fodder for both. He was about to start another bit up when there was crashing from down stairs. Keith shot up, his expression back to it's usual Keithy intensity.

        Lance held the tablet back to Keith. Despite all his poking around for embarrassing baby pictures, this had been more than he was bargaining for in the way of blackmail material. He couldn’t be responsible for a secret this big.

        “Guys!” Pidge’s voice shouted. “Keith! Lance? I think you should come see this.” She sounded serious and excited. After the revelation they’d just had, Lance had no guesses on what other secrets the night could produce.

        Keith was already out of the room, rushing down the hall. He hadn’t even looked at the offered tablet. Lance hesitated. Hunk was shouting now too, though. He glanced at the box pulled out from under the bed, but it felt so insecure. He tucked the tablet into the inside of his jacket and rushed down stairs to join them.

        He arrived just in time to see the mess of torn up floorboards where the couch had been. Then headlights cut through the sheers of the large living room window. Explanations died before they even started. The group of teens froze as a car pulled into the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview** : Let's make some responsible decisions, guys. ~~And some dumb ones~~.
> 
> I have way too many Krolia journal entries, my biggest struggle has been figuring out which ones to put in here, lol.  
> Also, we're _finally_ getting into the meat of what was the actual shift between this AU and the canon voltron universe. Whooo!!


End file.
